Phantom, Adorable and Charming
by Raxacoriocofallapatorius
Summary: Genderswap rewrite of a mixture of Kay's "Phantom" and ALW's "Phantom of the Opera" with a little of Leroux's original novel. Not all characters are switched. In fact, most aren't. Only Erik, Christine, and Raoul have swapped genders. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've only recently gotten into the world of POTO fan fictions and as I scrolled through potential stories-to-read, I couldn't help but notice that I couldn't find any gender-benders. A bit put back, I began to wonder why. Thinking on the story itself, having a woman (instead of a man) haunt an opera house and murder people and do a BUNCH of heavy lifting to set up traps and such seems a bit far-fetched. And then you have to think about Christine, this shy ballet girl who only wants to sing out and shine. How could that ... fragility be "transferred" into a male character? And then there was the whole kidnapping thing and it all seems too complicated and difficult. So I could only think of one response: **

**"CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!" **

**Even though I've said that it's a gender-bender, not all the characters' genders have been flipped. In fact, most of them have remained the same. The story itself follows the same lines, but I've had to rearrange some things and twist others to make it match, including the fact that the Phantom is younger and closer to Christine's character's age. I think that this is a mixture of Limoux's and ALW's POTO story, but it really is a thing all its own. I hope you enjoy and feel free to review. :D  
~Raxi**

**(PS - I own NOTHING! Not _Faust_, not the Phantom of the Opera, not anything but my own thoughts and imagination. FYI - all lyrics are in italics and the Faust lyrics are the literal translation of the French opera.)  
**

On the catwalk a tall young gentleman leaned on the rope railings, a dreamy look on his face as he listened to the music floating up from the stage below. It was the first rehearsal of the opera house's latest production of _Faust_, and Mephistopheles had just appeared to the old man below, with a deal ready to be signed. The man on the catwalk, who looked to be about twenty-five, began to whisper Faust's response to Mephistopheles's questions of what he desires.

"_No, I want a treasure which contains all. I want youth,_" he softly sang, taking a moment to revel in the orchestra's rising and falling melodies, and absorbing the harmonic lines that helped support both the melody and the lyrics of the opera. "_For me, energy, powerful instincts, and wild revels of the heart and the _-"

"BOY!" A gruff voice called out in a stage whisper. When the young man didn't react, the voice said again, "Christian Daáe! Get your head out of the clouds." The voice got closer. "Chris! If you don't stop standing and staring out into space like a worthless louse, I will gladly relieve you of your measly position!" A large, hairy hand grabbed Chris's shoulder and roughly pulled him from the edge of the catwalk. Chris started when he was suddenly staring at a large, round bearded face that had fat lips, a long broken nose, and two beady eyes. Joseph Buquet glared at the young man's soft blue eyes with his own hard brown ones. "You're lucky you haven't been fired yet. I would have let you go days after you had started if you didn't work so hard when your head wasn't in the damn clouds." His voice was a gravelly whisper as to not disturb the actors below.

Chris lowered his head, avoiding those mud-brown eyes, "I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again, sir. I'll get right back to work, sir," he said in a monotone before turning right around and walking off the catwalk, still humming and singing under his breath, "_To you! to you, to you, Phantom, adorable and charming!_"

Erika silently slid from shadow to shadow as she followed the young stage hand. She drew closer as he stopped to gaze down at the actors below. Erika's breathing slowed as she took in his profile. Still watching him, Erika noticed his lips barely moving. Curious, she drew closer still until she could hear him softly singing. "_For me, energy, powerful instincts, and wild revels of the heart and the -_" his sweet voice was cut off by a loud whisper.

"BOY!" The heavy footsteps of the idiot chief of the flies were getting closer. Cursing silently, Erika slid back into the shadows and waited for the buffoon to leave. Normally Erika didn't take any interest in anything, but somehow this tall young lad had attracted her attention.

The day he had come to the Opera Populaire, Erika had been lurking behind the thin walls of Manager Debierne's office when Madame Giry had burst into the office. Erika had nearly cried out, but only years of practice had kept her silent. Madame Giry, who was normally composed and as easy to read as a rock, seemed unsettled by something. Debierne didn't acknowledge her and focused only on that month's figures until Erika, in all her frustration, hit the wall lightly, causing Debierne's portrait to fall.

Jumping in surprise, Debierne finally noticed Madame Giry after glancing back at the unharmed painting. Looking back down at the paper in front of him, Debierne only asked sharply, "What can I do for you, Madame?"

Madame Giry stared right at where the portrait had hung only moments ago for a time before answering. "A young boy has arrived today, looking for work in the opera house," she began.

"Madame Giry," Debierne sighed heavily before lifting his head. "I have no time for trivial matters such as this. And we have no money to hire any more employees. Signora Carlotta and Signor Piangi's demands have begun to take their toll on our profit. Now," Debierne looked back down, "if you would please see yourself out, I have other matters to attend to." He gestured absently toward the door, but Madame Giry didn't move.

"In all my years working here, I have promised and delivered the best ballerinas and asked for nothing extra in return." Madame Giry leaned forward, slamming her hands on the desk, making both Debierne and Erika, who was still listening behind the wall, jump. Normally nothing could rustle Madame Giry's feathers. Erika had seen her set a badly broken ankle without batting an eye. This was highly unorthodox.

Debierne finally heard the urgency in her voice and looked up into her deep green eyes. "That is true..." He leaned back in his chair, making it creak.

"Well, this child is the son of my dearest friend. I have only just found out, upon his arrival, that she has," Madame Giry nearly choked on the words, "d-died. But, I know for a fact that Christian is a hard worker and only requests a small salary, only enough to get him by, and free lodgings." At that, Debierne focused sharply on Madame Giry, leaning forward angrily.

"FREE. LODGINGS?" he spat. "This is an opera house, not some scummy inn! If he's so desperate for a house, and you seem so close to him, why don't you provide this Christian a home?" Debierne looked at her expectantly.

Madame Giry just looked at him grimly. "Think about it. You could pay him a proper amount for his work, which, may I remind you, is almost three times the amount he is asking, or you could pay him a minimal amount and give him one of the old, dusty, unused rooms." Madame Giry smirked at Debierne. "Your choice."

Getting flustered, Debierne exclaimed, "Or I can just not hire him! What about that?!"

Madame Giry smirked again, as if expecting the question. "Well, if you don't employ Monsieur Christian, I will be retiring from your employment and seek work elsewhere." She paused and then started, as if a thought had come to her. "His last name is Daáe, if that makes any difference..."

Debierne nearly fell out of his chair. "D-Daáe?" he stuttered. "As in the famous violinist, Daáe? T-that Daáe?" Erika softly snickered at Debierne's reaction, although she was impressed herself. Gustav Daáe was a self-made man who had risen from a street performer to a famous concert violinist. His name, although still relatively new to the industry, was still well known to anyone versed in music. _I've never heard him mention a son before... _Erika pondered. _I don't think he ever mentioned a wife either..._

"Yes. Christian Daáe is the son of Gustav Daáe, but I pray you, make no mention of his father to him. Gustav left Christian and his mother, Jacqueline, when Christian was very young." Debierne sat listening intently. "And even though he is still alive, Christian acts like he died when he left his family behind and claims to now be an orphan." Madame Giry held back a smile as Debierne nodded in a child-like manner. "So I take it you are considering my offers?"

In that moment, Debierne remembered himself and nodded sharply. "I have... And I've decided. I will let the boy work as a stage hand and he can lodge in the last room on the farthest hall in the East wing." Madame Giry looked practically ecstatic. "Now, leave me and give the boy your news. Go now," Debierne waved her out, focusing back on his papers.

Erika smiled softly as she remembered how she had practically run through the walls to get a glimpse of the oh-so-important, Christian Daáe. Unfortunately, it wasn't until a week later that Erika had actually run into him. He was definitely pleasing to the eye with red curly hair, a tall lean form, and soft blue eyes that seemed eternally melancholy. But it wasn't until Erika had heard his voice that she had taken an interest.

Before she could delve into that memory, Joseph Buquet, the previously mentioned chief of the flies, stormed by her hiding spot, muttering under his breath about "day-dreaming maggots." Looking down the catwalk, Erika saw Christian roll his eyes and sigh heavily before turning away. Swiftly pressing one of the secret panels, Erika slid silently into the now opened tunnel.

_I must end this unhealthy obsession, _Erika thought sadly. _It's not like he could ever reciprocate with any sort of feelings..._

That afternoon, Chris took his bath for the week before setting about his small room and getting dressed again. He had a very special occasion and wanted to look, and smell, his best. The opera house in which he worked as a stage hand was holding auditions for the chorus, and Chris, who has always wanted to sing on stage, figured that being in the chorus would be as close as he could get to being a leading singer.

It wasn't that Chris's voice wasn't good, or that he didn't have the will power to accomplish that goal; it's just that the manager stuck with what worked and wasn't a gambler. Plus, Madame Giry, his deceased mother's dear old friend, was naturally, if not automatically, in favor of him and showed it by letting him stay in one of the spare rooms at the Opera house. One could argue that Chris was getting a special treatment.

"One" already has but, thankfully, her protests have been ignored on every occasion. It seemed that, even though he wasn't direct competition, Signora Carlotta, the prima donna at the Opera Populaire, has had a death wish against Chris since he showed up at Madame Giry's doorstep three months ago. She took one look at his long and lean body, his blue eyes and curly red hair, and his constant smile and distant gaze and decided that he wasn't worthy of the Opera Populaire. Or of her.

Looking at the full length mirror long enough to adjust the vest that was secure around his clean white shirt, and to make sure that his hair was tightly pulled back, Chris bent down to clean up after his bath, a small courtesy he did every time he messed something up in the humble room. As he mopped up the creaking wooden floor, Chris softly sang a later part in Faust, the moments where a now young Faust is in town and searching for his beloved Marguerite. He was singing, "_Where is she hiding, the beautiful child whom your art caused me to see? Is it a vain enchantment?_" when he heard a loud thump from the far wall that held the hanging full-length mirror. Chris paused, and turned to face it, raising an eyebrow in puzzlement. Shrugging, he turned back to his work and continued, "_Won't you permit, my beautiful lady, me to offer you an arm, to guide your way?_" And the thump sounded again from the same area by the mirror.

Completely confused now, Chris abandoned his effort to clean up the spilt water and meandered over to the mirror. He looked all around, floor to ceiling, for any loose or hanging object that could have made the noise. Seeing nothing, he looked directly at the mirror, tilting his head to the side and squinting. Slowly he approached the unsoiled surface, pressed his ear to it, and knocked twice. Moments crawled by and no responding knock resounded. Chris shrugged once more and moved away to gather his things and head to the stage.

Hidden behind the mirror, a slim figure gently rested its head against the pane and whispered softly, "Oh Christian..."


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N: I just wanted to make it clear that none of this would be possible without my beta SesshomaruLover23. This story was originally only from Christian's point of view, but as more was written, I began to rationalize that Erika's side needs to be heard too. So I ended up writing parallel stories. It was only with the help of SesshomaruLover23 that I was able to have those two POV's melded together in perfect harmony. She's put so much effort into it, so this story is as much hers as it is mine.**

ALSO: this is the only time that I'm going to upload two chapters at once. After today, they will be updated every Sunday. So look for Chapter 3 on the 23rd.)

Despite the voice of reason always whispering in Erika's ear, she couldn't keep away from Christian. For the last few weeks, Erika had followed him practically everywhere and was with him at every moment, save the private places and moments. She had watched him work hard backstage, shirt off and muscled chest sweating. She had heard his sultry voice singing to himself as he worked, even after being told to stop. She had seen the excitement on his face when the date of the chorus tryouts was posted.

Erika had listened to Christian practice his piece every night since. And now it was the day of the auditions.

_What if the idiot manager doesn't recognize his natural talent? _Erika silently fretted as she waited for the tell-tale sounds of Christian draining the tub. Christian taking a bath was one of those times when Erika couldn't lower herself to look. No matter how much she wanted to. _What if Christian doesn't get hired?_ This possibility made Erika angry. _Well! I'll ensure that he is hired. Not even Debierne could deny the Phantom of the Opera!_

Now that she had Christian's immediate future handled, Erika began to worry about the other singers. Especially Signora Carlotta. _That over glorified Italian will be the death of the Opera Populaire..._ While imagining ways to rid the opera house of that wretched woman, Erika finally heard the water drain.

Relieved that she could gaze at Christian once more, Erika dashed around the tunnel corner and stopped in front of the back side of a one-way mirror. As Christian adjusted his outfit, fretting over his unruly hair, Erika's eyes couldn't help but wander up and down, taking in all of Christian. _I wonder what he looks like without... _Erika's mind rambled, until she noticed and shook her head frantically to dispel such thoughts.

By the time Erika had recollected herself, Christian had begun to mop up the water that spilled, a ritual that Erika knew brought endless joy to the cleaning ladies. She simply watched him and drew closer to the mirror that separated them, a soft smile playing on her lips. Then she heard he was singing _Faust_.

"_Where is she hiding, the beautiful child whom your art caused me to see? Is it a vain enchantment?_" Even though Christian had no idea she was there, Erika couldn't help but feel he was singing about her. At the thought of that, she lurched forward, accidentally hitting her hand against the mirror. Erika flinched, pulling back, when she saw that Christian noticed. Obviously thinking nothing of it, he shrugged and turned back to work. "_Won't you permit, my beautiful lady, me to offer you an arm, to guide your way?_"

_Too much... Too much!_ Erika thought as she slowly lowered herself down to the ground, her head accidentally hitting the mirror again. She didn't dare to move or make any noise as Christian drew near, carefully inspecting the mirror. Erika watched him as he cocked his head before gently laying his ear against the mirror's surface. He knocked twice and paused, obviously awaiting Erika to answer, even though he had no idea anybody was there at all.

Finally he pulled back. Erika's eyes followed as she slowly rose to her feet again. After the door shut securely behind Christian, Erika gently rested her head against the pane and whispered softly, "Oh Christian..."

**_~*~*~*~_**

"I'm here! I'm here!" Chris yelled as he ran onto the empty stage. "I'm sorry I'm late." Even though Chris had lived at the Opera Populaire for the majority of the three months he's worked there, he had gotten lost on his way up. Chris had been imagining what it must be like to experience the rush of singing on stage with an audience, and the warmth that he would feel when the audience was cheering for him. After nearly running into a stone column, Chris had realized that in his distracted state, he had ended up going the opposite direction and was going to miss the audition.

And even though he had run all the way to the stage, Chris was still too late.

Monsieur Reyer looked up from gathering his papers at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing around the house. Upon seeing Chris breathing heavily and waving his arms, Reyer began to shake his head. "I'm sorry monsieur. You were too late," he called out to the heaving man. Reyer finished gathering his belongings and left the house. All alone, Chris collapsed to the stage, unable to stop a cry escaping his lips.

His last chance before the next season. His last chance and he blew it. Blew it all because he couldn't be serious, couldn't focus. Taking comfort that there was no one else there, Chris slowly curled into a ball on the stage and began to sob softly. After all the tears stopped, he slowly lifted his aching body on one arm, dried his eyes with the other, and began shakily singing a lullaby that his mother sang him, but made it slow and lamenting.

"_My heart is like a singing bird, whose nest is in a watered shoot; My heart is like an apple tree whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a purple sea; My heart is gladder than all these because my love is come to me. _

"_Raise me a dais of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes; Carve it in doves and pomegranates, and peacocks with a hundred eyes; Work it in gold and silver grapes, in leaves and silver fleur-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life is come, my love, is come to me_."

As he slowed and quieted to a stop, Chris heard a small applause echoing about the cavernous room. Startled and embarrassed that someone else had seen him shed his manhood and sob on the floor, Chris practically sprang to his feet and called out, "Who is there? I ask that you show yourself." His words echoed about, until they were no more. Frustrated beyond belief, Chris raised his voice in anger and yelled, "Show yourself or make yourself known!"

Time crawled by until finally a voice answered softly, "Forget me ... and I shall forget you."

Although the tunnels throughout the opera house were devoid of any other person, they twisted and turned so it took Erika longer than expected to reach the theatre. By the time she slipped through the hidden door in Box 5, Christian had already lost his chance. Erika quietly stepped to the edge of the curtains' shadows and held her breath as she watched her Christian whimper as he curled himself into a tight knit ball.

_I should give him some privacy_, Erika thought as she began backing up. _I really should..._ but her thoughts were interrupted by a soft crooning that drowned in longing and loneliness. Curious, Erika stepped forward again to find that heartbroken, lamenting song was coming from Christian, who had lifted himself to an arm.

"_Work it in gold and silver grapes, in leaves and silver fleur-de-lys; Because the birthday of my life is come, my love, is come to me..._" Christian's face was streaked with tear-tracks, and his eyes were overflowing with melancholy. Unable to help herself, Erika began to lethargically applause. When the sound reached Christian's ears, he leapt to his feet, obviously angry, and shouted, "Who is there? I ask that you show yourself."

Erika nearly walked out into the light at the note of desperation in his voice, but she caught herself and withdrew deeper into the shadows instead. Silently, she watched Christian grow cross.

"Show yourself or make yourself known!" he shouted. Erika's mind raced as Christian awaited a reply. She instinctively knew that he would not part until he heard something from the person that was present, so she had no choice but to speak.

Heart pounding in her ears, Erika glided forward to the very edge of the box's shadows. Her eyes were trained on Christian's fidgeting form on the stage and she licked her lips, anxiety drying her throat and mouth. Finally, Erika spoke, in a little more than a whisper, "Forget me ... and I shall forget you."

Hastily removing herself from the theatre area before she did something else foolish, Erika ran her gloved fingers through her loose hair muttering, "And I will. I will forget you..." It was a promise that she needed to keep, no matter how impossible...

**_~*~*~*~_**

**As always, feel free to review or comment. Just no flaming.**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: I am sooooooo sorry that I was late on my first official update. I was having internet issues. And I know, at this point, not too many people are actually gonna be reading this as it is updated, but I'm still sorry for those who care. :) The response I've received was so much more than I expected. Each review and response and favorite and follow just makes me feel... ARGINFLARGINMARGHIN! Thank you. I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy. And, per usual, feel free to review. :3)**

Erika smirked at the look on Debierne's face as he read her latest note aloud to Madame Giry, who had, per usual, delivered it upon her request. Only Madame Giry, long time worker of the Opera Populaire, was trustworthy or smart enough to handle being Erika's messenger. For years, Erika had admired the way Madame Giry handled the ballet brats, but it wasn't until a few years ago that she began utilizing Giry. Since then, Madame Giry had been delivering Erika's notes and, in return of her confidence, receiving little bonuses that ranged from money to chocolates.

"'I do think that if he is not included in the final list, my salary might increase by another thousand or so...' Lunacy!" Debierne's face was steadily growing more and more red till he was practically shaking with rage. He turned to Madame Giry, who waited silently to the side. "What do you think this _Phantom_," he spat the word, "is doing with all the money I send him month after month?" Madame Giry did nothing but stare blankly back.

After the first few months, Madame Giry had learned that the Phantom was indeed a female, a victory in Giry's eyes, and how to remain apathetic to all of Debierne's rants and raves. Erika leaned against the framework of the inner wall, awaiting Debierne's next move.

For a few moments, he did nothing but sit, flustered, in his seat, all the while staring at the note. Finally, he slowly folded the note and slipped it into his inner jacket pocket before speaking. "Madame Giry," his voice was controlled again. "I need you to go fetch Monsieur Reyer. Let him know it was I who sent for him, and please ask him to bring the list of chorus members he plans to hire." With a short nod, Madame Giry left the room, leaving Debierne alone with Erika.

Erika smirked again as she heard her plan falling into place. Christian will be in the chorus, just as he dreamed. The smirk slowly slid into a soft smile. She sat there a moment or two before remembering Debierne.

He was now pacing about his office, no pattern to where he walked. "At least the opera house won't be in my possession for much longer, if I get my way," he muttered under his breath, only just loud enough for Erika's sharp ears to pick up.

Shaken, and slightly confused, Erika began to glide down the passage back to her home. _I ought to keep an eye on Debierne for the next few days..._

That voice. Those words. That voice. They haunted Chris's thoughts the next day. Those words. "Forget me and I shall forget you," it had said. How could he forget such a voice that, in those few softly spoken words, had entirely entranced his mind? That had taken control of his thoughts, of his spirit? That voice. It was too soft to really tell, but it sounded too high pitched to be male. Then the way it tenderly said, "And I shall forget you," almost as if she, for Chris had decided that it was, in fact, a female, was telling herself more so than him. There was no way he could forget her. No way he would even try.

At the end of the third day after the strange encounter with the disembodied voice, the list of chorus members was posted in the costume room. Too tired and disappointed to look, Chris just left for the evening and headed over to the Giry's for some dinner. Arriving at the humble, yet immaculately organized home, Chris knocked twice rapidly on the door and stepped back, waiting while rocking back and forth. The door swung open and in the doorway was not the old, yet still beautiful, Madame Giry, but her daughter Meg.

Those three months ago when Chris first came to the Opera Populaire, Meg was the first person he met and the first person he really got to know. They grew close because both (Note: Do you mean 'she' instead of 'both'? If not, I would just like to know what you mean by 'both.' It's just a tiny bit confusing to me. XD) knew his mother, which is what drew them together in the first place. As time passed, Meg expressed a small interest in Chris as more than an acquaintance or friend, and Chris agreed to court her. Those two weeks were pleasant, but both agreed that they weren't suited for each other and were better off just friends. Since then, Chris's friendship with the small brunette had flourished and they became the best of friends, despite the gender gap.

Meeting Meg with a swift embrace, Chris smiled and said, "Hello. I hadn't expected to see you tonight." Smiling back up at him, Meg simply shrugged, then gestured for him to come in. Upon entering the abode, Chris removed his cap and stomped his feet, dislodging any dirt that may have caught on their soles. He and Meg both gravitated towards the dining room, where Madame Giry was found looking over a copy of the chorus list. Looking up to see Chris, she gave a smile.

"I wanted to congratulate you on your success," Madame Giry said after Chris gave her a brief hug. At his look of confusion, she gestured toward the list that she had been reading a moment before. As Chris's confusion increased, Meg grabbed the list from the table and glanced over it.

"Look here, Chris," she said gesturing to the paper in her hand. "'Christian Daáe.'" Meg looked up a Chris's face. "You're in the chorus for this next season." Chris quickly snatched the paper and read over it himself. Bewildered and still confused, he stumbled back until he hit a wall, where he slowly slid down to the floor.

"I-I..." He muttered. "I didn't even..." Chris looked around helplessly. "How did..." Defeated, Chris let the paper fall to the floor as he ran (Note: I would add 'his hands' here) through his hair, his brow furrowed.

"Didn't you audition? You said you were going to." Meg crouched next to him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. Chris shook his head, and looked up into her dark green eyes.

"I didn't get the chance to. I-I got lost and was too late." He rolled his head to the side and looked at the list lying so innocently on the floor a few meters away. "I-I don't know how I ended up on the list. I had nothing to do with it. Nothing..." He trailed off.

As Meg tried to console her best friend, Madame Giry bent over and picked up the paper. Reading over it again, she slowly lowered her arm, a frown set deep into her face and concentration wrinkling her brow. _Could it be her?_

Erika was, once again, behind Debierne's office walls. It had been almost a week since the incident in the theatre and the chorus list had been posted. Erika was feeling accomplished that she had been able to avoid seeing Christian all that time, but, for some reason, she felt hollow and empty. _As if something was missing..._

Erika jumped from her thoughts as the office door opened and three people entered. Two were business men, obviously in their late thirties or early forties, who were as different as they were similar. They both wore formal tuxes, top hats, and bow ties, but one was tall, thin, and had hair while the other was short, stout, and had a comb-over. The third person in the party, who also entered last, was a petite woman who held herself like royalty, with an air of pride and arrogance. _She's quite beautiful..._ Erika thought sourly as her hand lifted instinctively to the right side of her face.

The woman had large eyes, a small and slightly curved nose, and a round, heart shaped face that was framed by perfectly set golden curls that flowed past her shoulders. She wore a simple, yet still elegant, sea-foam green dress that accented her light hair and dark eyes. Her neck and ears were decorated with rich jewels, but her hands were bare of any gems. With each passing note of the woman's obvious beauty, the burning in Erika's stomach grew stronger.

"Messieurs Firmin and Andre," Debierne bowed to the short and tall gentlemen, respectively, before turning to the woman. "Madame Vicomtess de Chagny," he purred as he lightly kissed the back of her hand.

_So she's a Vicomtess? _Erika seethed, hidden in the wall, _I'm liking this woman less and less.  
_

"I hope your travels were pleasant and uneventful," Debierne smiled widely, much out of his character. After receiving nods from all three, he continued, "Now, let's get down to business." Erika straightened. This is what she came to listen to. "The two of you," Debierne looked at the two gentlemen, "are wanting to purchase the Opera Populaire with the Vicomtess de Chagny as your patron? Is that correct?" The two men nodded as the Vicomtess simply smiled blankly. "In that case, let's talk numbers."

The following conversation consisted of Debierne suggesting prices to Andre and Firmin who, in turn, disagreed and suggested their idea of a good price. All the while, the Vicomtess de Chagny sat in her chair, still proper and prideful and arrogant, growing increasingly bored. Erika waited behind the wall, interested, as she listened to the three men haggle on a price of HER opera house. Albeit she didn't own it by law, but Erika had put enough effort into the well-being of the Opera Populaire that she had every right to claim it as hers.

Chris strode into the Opera the next day with a mission on his mind. There would be no daydreaming until he had answers. Without knocking, he pushed open the manager's office door, ready to speak his mind, when he noticed that the manager had the company of two gentlemen and an elegant young lady. Suddenly embarrassed by barging in like that, Chris shifted awkwardly on his feet, everybody's eyes solely on him. Finally figuring that he wouldn't speak, the manager turned back to his three invited guests.

"I assure you that we keep things up to standard in order to make a profit. You will not be disappointed," the manager gave a half smile, obviously very nervous. Given the chance while the four people talked, (well more like the three men talked, for the young woman just sat and listened) Chris got a chance to observe the three new faces. The two gentlemen were almost peas in a pod. They wore similar outfits of formal tuxedoes with a top hat and cane, and both held themselves the same way, with the same arrogance. The shorter of the two seemed easily angered, for his face looked as though it was constantly flushed. He also was rounder and had a balding crown that was revealed when he removed his hat to dab his brow with a silken handkerchief. The taller of the two seemed to have had a less stressed life. He was tall and lean and, even though age had pinched the skin around his eyes and on his forehead, his head was full of hair.

After thoroughly observing the two men, Chris's gaze moved over to the lone lady. She was small in size, but had a confident air about her. She wore a long sea-foam green dress that had a small bustle and white lace trim on the bottom, ends of the sleeves, and around the neck. She wore her long blonde hair up in carefully sculpted curls that rested on the back left side of her head and gently cascaded down to her shoulders. On her ears she wore dangling sapphires, but bore no ring on her finger. And her eyes were a swirling hazel that seemed to move between green and brown without ceasing. Upon making that final note, Chris realized that she was watching him, watching her. Embarrassed again, he quickly lowered his head and didn't raise it until he heard the manager clear his throat.

"Well obviously you came in here for a reason," he said. "What might it be? I would like to finish my PRIVATE conversation." The manager looked at Chris expectantly.

"Well..." Chris squeaked out. His face flushed red again, but he cleared his throat and continued. "I came to discuss a decision made about the choosing of the chorus members." Chris gained confidence as his voice remained steady. "There was a name on the list that surprised-er ... shocked me to my core for I was unaware that the person in question ever auditioned." He tried to hide the fact he was talking about himself.

The manager, however, seemed to catch on who Chris was talking about. With a nervous glance around the room, he stood and said to his guests, "I must apologize, but this matter must be attended to immediately." Nodding to each of them as he passed, the manager grabbed Chris's arm and dragged him out the door.

Debierne had just agreed on a price with Andre and Firmin when Christian burst into the room ready to speak, mouth open and breath drawn. Erika nearly fell when she saw him. After days of staying away, just seeing him was like finding water in a sweltering desert. How could she have almost given him up?

Obviously embarrassed by his rude entrance, Christian's ears grew red as he stepped back and waited for Debierne to finish with Andre and Firmin. Erika was watching him when his eyes found the lovely Madame Vicomtess de Chagny and she felt a sharp pain in her chest when they lit up with interest. She waited in agony until Debierne finally called Christian out.

"Well obviously you came in here for a reason. What might it be?" Debierne grew impatient and pressed. "I would like to finish my PRIVATE conversation." Christian shifted from foot to foot, nervous.

It took Christian a bit before he was able to relay his question, which was, coincidentally about his acceptance into the chorus. Erika's ears pricked up at Christian's curiosity. _Does he have any inkling that I am behind it?_ Her heart soared momentarily before reality came crashing down. _How could he? He heard my voice once and has probably forgotten me by now..._ Erika sat in self-pity until the door shut loudly behind Debierne and Christian, who just left.

**Also, I've been informed that the time between my updates is too long. So from this point forward (to the best of my ability) I will be updating my story every Tuesday and Friday (starting next Tuesday). :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**(A/N: Thanks for being patient. The number of people reading this is so much more than I expected. One day in June I had like 64 people reading it. I was blown away. Anyways, here's the first update of the week. Sorry it's a bit short, but Friday's is going to be longer. I hope you enjoy it and, as always, read and review. :3)**

"What do you think you're doing?!" the manager demanded once they were out of hearing range of the office. "Do you not realize I have a lot riding on that meeting in there? No, of course you don't. You, a mere... stagehand?, know nothing of the workings of this opera house." He stood and rubbed his forehead in frustration for a moment. "What is it you wanted?"

Chris stood for a moment, stunned by the torrent of accusations and reprimands. "I-I was just wondering how, and why, I was on the list of chorus members when I didn't even properly audition?" The manager smiled grimly and nodded.

"You were... how do I say it... recommended by a person of very high status," was the manager's cryptic answer. Not any more enlightened by what was said than before, Chris just stared blankly at the manager. The silence stretched on for a minute or two. Nervous and irritated, the manager gave in and said, "Look. There was a note left about your job in this opera house, and so I complied with the demands." He dug in his vest pocket. "Here. Read it. Draw your own conclusions and then ... DESTROY the thing for all I care!" The manager took out a crumpled envelope and thrust it into Chris's hands before marching back to his office.

Puzzled at the manager's enigmatic statements and exit, Chris gingerly unfolded the envelope and slid the letter it contained out. It read:

_Monsieur Debierne,  
I request that your stage manager, Monsieur Reyer, rethinks  
his decision of not taking the young man, Christian Daáe,  
into consideration when choosing this next season's chorus members. _

_I do think that if he is not included in the final list, my salary  
might increase by another thousand or so..._

_Best wishes,  
O.G._

Chris just stared at the note for a minute. _O.G.? Who the hell is he?_ Then a thought occurred to him. _Could it be that that voice... that angel... was this "O.G.?" If so, what does O.G. stand for anyways...? _Without disposing of the note, Chris walked silently, contemplating the new found information, until he reached his room which he entered and closed the door softly.

**~*~*~*~**

It took Erika a minute or two before she found her way to her best hiding spot in the hallway. When she got there, Debierne was thrusting a crumpled envelope into Christian's hands, practically yelling, "Draw your own conclusions then ... DESTROY the thing for all I care!" Erika watched uninterested as he stormed back into his office.

She looked back at Christian, waiting for a reaction as he read her latest note to Debierne. _Will he care? Will he guess who I am? _Erika fretted, anxiously clutching at her ever-present cape. Then, as Christian proceeded to simply read the note and sit in silent thought, Erika's heart settled till it was practically still. She watched silently as he stood and drifted down the hallway towards his room. Erika made a move to follow, but thought better of it and returned to Debierne's office.

Upon passing into his room, Erika heard Debierne exclaim excitedly, "So, we are at an agreement then?" Peeking through her hidden spy-hole, Erika saw Debierne switch between shaking hands with Andre and Firmin. All three were smiling, though it didn't reach any of their eyes, and only the Vicomtess de Chagny, who was still seated on the chair, was quiet and solemn.

Just as Andre and Firmin began to move towards the door, the Vicomtess de Chagny stood and spoke up, for the first time during the entire conversation. "Who was that boy?" Debierne looked at her, startled. "You know, the one who was in here a few minutes ago?"

Debierne half smiled. "Oh, he was nobody of importance. Just a chorus boy who is a bit full of himself." Erika saw red at that comment. _Christian is anything but egotistical!_

The Vicomtess de Chagny seemed a bit ruffled as well. "I only wish to inquire of his name. Is that too much to ask?" Debierne's face didn't change. "I am the patron after all..." Debierne closed his eyes and rubbed the space between his eyebrows, finally persuaded.

"His name was Christian Daáe. He is a simple boy from Sweden with a famous father and dead mother. He has been working at the Opera Populaire for three months, as a stagehand until recently." Debierne sneered lightly in the Vicomtess's general direction. "Is that sufficient information?"

The Vicomtess suppressed a smile, though her eyes still glittered with excitement. "Yes. Thank you." Erika glared at the rich young noble though the wall, hoping her burning gaze would rid the woman of her chipper nature. It didn't. Everybody left swiftly with a few polite 'good-bye's and 'farewell's. Andre, Firmin, and the Vicomtess de Chagny left for their carriages that waited outside, while Erika went towards Christian's room for the first time in almost a week.


	5. Chapter 5

**(A/N: Here's the first Friday update ever! I hope you guys enjoyed stewing over what will happen next. I hope I don't disappoint. :3)**

Later that evening, Chris emerged from his silent stupor after many hours of contemplation. Feeling famished, he decided to take a walk and reflect on his recent revelations while grabbing a quick bite to eat. The first chorus practice wasn't until the next night and Chris was going to enjoy his last day off for a while.

He donned his usual brown newsboy cap and knee-length coat and walked out the door, humming all the while. As he reached the main road, just outside the Opera Populaire, Chris felt a strange prickling at the nape of his neck. Turning around, he scanned the practically empty side street he had just turned off of. Seeing nothing, Chris cast one last wary glance behind him before setting about his way again.

As Chris walked down the populated and bustling streets of Paris, he took time to stop and talk with everyone he met. In one moment he would pause to share a joke with the baker; the next, Chris would give a lady a hand with lifting; the next, he would crouch to talk to a kid off the street. Socializing with every person he had never seen before came easy to Chris, but he always seemed to have issues being this brave and unafraid when it came to affairs at the opera or about his mother.

"Mother..." Chris stopped dead in the center of the sidewalk. Three months later and it still hurts... Rubbing his chest slowly, Chris started moving forward again, without the upbeat step he had moments before. Walking without really being aware to where he was going, Chris was stuck in the past.

Chris had always been close to his mother after his father had vanished when he was only seven. Though he was still young, Chris had understood what it meant when his father had left their lives, and he tried his best to be the man he knew his father never could be. Each day, Chris would wake at the very first lights of dawn and start working. He helped around the estate that his mother was a governess at and added all the little wages he earned from generous tippers to the small salary his mother had left after buying the essentials, saving up so they could buy tickets to go see an opera, a personal dream that they both shared.

Chris's mother, Jacqueline, was always a small, thin woman, even in her prime. Her bright red hair was always pulled back, though no matter how hard she tried, a few curls would spring loose to form a halo around her long face. Their lives were simple, and perhaps a bit rough at times, but happy. Chris grew into a strong, kind young lad, and Jacqueline never stopped smiling. It was paradise. Then she got sick.

The doctors said that a cure was beyond them and, with each passing day, Jacqueline's condition grew progressively worse. With each day, Chris had to watch his mother, his sole parent, grow weaker and weaker as she burned with a fever, though she never stopped smiling. It got to a point where, in order to calm her fever-induced delusions, Chris (who was born with a natural gift that he practiced daily on street corners in order to pick a few more francs) would sing the same lullabies that were sung to him, to her.

On that last day, Chris shakily sang, "_My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a purple sea_." Jacqueline cupped her shaking hand to the side of his face, wiping away the tears that ran there. "_My heart is gladder than all-_" Jacqueline's hand slowly slid down until it hung limp. _"-these because my l-love..." _Chris was unable to continue because the tears threatened to drown him, and he lost his voice when he finally lost his mother.

Starting out of his thoughts, Chris found himself in an area unknown to him. He had wandered far, lost in memories. Spinning on the spot, Chris assessed the situation before finally deciding that he would have to do the one thing no man should ever have to do. Chris had to ask for directions.

When she reached the back of the mirror, Erika found Christian readying himself for departure. Thankful that she wore clothes she could move swiftly, and relatively unseen in, Erika removed her cape and followed Christian up to the back door out of the Opera Populaire. _Where is he going?_ Erika watched, hidden in the shadows.

Erika initially shadowed Christian's foot falls and stepped where he stepped, but even so, she had to recede silently into the shadows when Christian turned. Because where he walked was so crowded, Erika stayed to the rooftops, out of sight. Unfortunately, Christian stopped frequently. Fortunately, it was periodical and predictable so Erika never lost him a moment.

As she hid behind the steeple of a small church, Erika smiled at the exchange between Christian and a baker. _He seems ... comfortable in crowds, _Erika thought with a smirk. After he stopped talking, Erika moved forward about five roofs, and looked down at the street, expecting Christian to be right next to her. However, when she glanced down, he was nowhere to be seen.

Panicking, Erika doubled back, racing along rooftops and frantically scanning the streets. When she didn't find him lagging behind, she moved forward, hoping to find he had gotten in front of her. Still, Christian was missing. Practically in hysteria, Erika jumped down to an empty alley way and dashed along the back road, looking for Christian there. _Lost... LOST! How did I lose him? Why did I have to lose something so important?_

About an hour later, Erika finally found Christian wandering a back street near a pub. When she found him, a weight was lifted from her shoulders. When she noticed the three men surrounding him, a ball of fire began to burn inside her. Treading carefully in the slick mud, Erika silently slipped her ever-present Lasso from her belt, and readied it.

**_~*~*~*~_**

After glancing around once more, Chris determined that the best place to ask was the tavern he had spied across the street. As he dashed through the mud, Chris's foot caught on a stray rock and he slipped, landing face-first. Scrambling to get purchase in the slop, Chris didn't hear anybody approach until a large hand grabbed him by the elbow, lifted him clean out of the mud, and carried him into an alleyway adjacent to the tavern.

In the side-street, Chris was thrown to the ground once more and he looked up to see three large and burly men around him in a semicircle. Feeling the tension of the situation, Chris slowly got to his feet, dusted off his clothes and the newsboy cap that had landed in the dirt, and judged the situation. Three thugs... Three thugs... Chris rubbed the back of his head. _I know I'm strong from heavy lifting, but I don't know if I could even handle one thug... _The three men began to slowly step towards him.

"L-look. I don't want any trouble," Chris stammered, hands raised in defense. Hugging the corner, Erika could just overhear Christian stammering to the three thugs. "I-I'm just lost and need directions back to the opera house." Glancing around the corner, Erika watched angrily as the men drew closer and closer to Christian. Soon one was close enough to touch him, his grubby fingers reaching out, and Erika burned with untapped rage.

In a flash, she had whipped around the corner and secured the Lasso around the closest thug's neck. Slowly tightening the thin rope, Erika grimaced in an almost pleasure as the man suffocated. After letting him suffer a moment, Erika snapped the Lasso quickly, breaking his neck, and removed the rope from the dead man.

Using the other two men's surprise to his advantage, Chris charged at the thug nearest to him, the one that had initially grabbed him out of the mud and brought him to the alley. Hitting him in the gut with his head, Chris stumbled trying to regain balance after the man fell and hit his own head against the wall with a resounding crack.

A cry in anger reminded Chris of the third adversary and he turned only to feel a fist hit his nose with a crunch. Chris crumpled to the ground, clutching his face, blood dribbling through his fingers. He glanced up and, upon seeing an oncoming foot, flinched away from the towering thug.

Glancing over at Christian, Erika saw him ram a second thug into the wall, unintentionally knocking him out. Before she could react, the third man had charged and punched Christian in his nose. Christian fell to the ground, clutching his face. The man pulled his leg back to kick. Blood was dripping between Christian's fingers. Erika saw red.

Within seconds, the final man was caught within her Lasso. She sneered in outright joy as the man's face turned a deep red and then a pale white. So engrossed in his pain, Erika didn't see his arm flailing towards her until it hit her. As the wild arm pushed her away, the Lasso tightened, snapping the man's neck, and Erika instinctively slipped it off before crashing painfully into the far wall.

When the blow never came, Chris looked again to find the third and final enemy on the floor, his fate just like the first. A small cry of pain rang out, and Chris turned to see a slim figure leaning against the wall farthest from him.

In the darkness, Chris could barely make out the form of a young lad, based upon size and attire, who had his dark hair loosely pulled back in a small ponytail, and whose hands were gloved, one holding a coiled rope and the other clutching his arm. Noticing that the boy was hurt, Chris scrambled to his feet and stepped towards his young savior.

Looking down at her injury, Erika couldn't help inhaling with a hiss as she cradled her right arm. Hearing a stumble and grunt, Erika looked over to see Christian approaching, concern in his eyes, and instinctively pulled deeper into the shadows. When Christian kept coming, Erika slowly shook her head and backed up before running away.

As she ran, still cradling her arm, Erika heard Christian shouting after her. Anxious to thank the 'boy', Chris ran to follow, calling out, "Hey! Wait!" Erika made turn after turn, hoping to lose Christian, while at the same time leading him to a familiar area. Chris's long stride helped him gain ground and he quickly caught up with the lad, even though the boy had taken many turns and remained off the main roads. Chris caught the boy's uninjured arm and nearly dropped it again for it was unnaturally cold.

Christian's hand loosened slightly when it met her skin, but Erika was too broken to pull away, and it soon tightened again. She began pull away, refusing to face Christian, even when he wheezed out, "I... I just-just wanted t-to thank you." It wasn't until he grew angry and shouted, "HEY! I'm just trying to thank you!" that she stopped struggling.

Erika heard Christian sigh in relief. She dared to turn her head slightly so only the left side of her face was visible and she could see him in the dim light. Chris softened his voice, "You didn't have to help me. Most people wouldn't. Thank you." He dipped his head in an almost bow. Erika felt a deep set warmth bloom in her chest. When the 'boy' gave no reply, Chris looked up again, finding a soft golden eye trained on him, the boy's profile barely silhouetted in the dark.

In a semi-shocked state, Erika slowly pulled her arm out of Christian's grasp. Before he could react or capture her again, Erika gently whispered, "Forget me," before running off and hiding in the near shadows where she knew he would never find her.

Chris, stunned at the hasty departure, whispered to himself, "'Forget me,' " and realization struck. That was no boy. He had just come face to face with his angel.

Erika saw as he mouthed the words to himself. She saw as realization settled in his eyes. She watched as a smile lit his face, and Erika smiled too. _He was happy to know it was me..._**__**

**As always, read and review. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**(A/N: I have gotten some serious feedback on all of my stories, and that brings me immense pleasure. :3 So far, in the eight days it's been July, I've had 304 views and 142 visitors. I mean... wow. That's more than the entire month of June. I'm just blown away. :') And a special thanks to my avid followers for this story, Frenzyvammi and The newbie phan (previously known as Angel's wings). Your constant reviews make me want to post earlier ... but I can't break schedule because I do have to write this stuff and I want it to be good. Thank you so much. I really love the support. I'm rambling and being repetitious, so I'll leave you to it. As always feel free to review. :D)**

That night, in the alleyway, Erika didn't leave Christian's side. After finally escaping Christian, Erika had followed him home to make sure he didn't get lost again. When she saw him walk in the front door of the Opera Populaire, Erika decided that she would visit him in the morning to make sure he was okay.

Chris awoke the next day, certain that his chance meeting was simply a dream until his throbbing nose reminded him the truth of the situation. Everything of that night, after seeing his angel run away, was a blur. He vaguely remembered finding his way back to the Opera Populaire and stumbling inside. Chris had bumped into Buquet who exclaimed, "Lord, what's wrong with your face? Did you get into a brawl at the pub? Idiot boy. I'm glad to be rid of ye'." Mumbling an apology, Chris had gone to his room and simply slept, dreaming of those golden eyes and that soft voice.

_But perhaps it wasn't chance... _The thought came unwarranted into his mind. His angel had protected him. He had met his angel. _My Angel of Music_.

Chris had many fond memories of his mother telling him stories at night, her soft voice weaving a tale of fantasy and wonder. Chris would always snuggle in closer, loving the feel of his mother's warm embrace.

One of his favorite stories then, and possibly still now, was of a woman who had, in life, dedicated herself to spreading the joy of music and singing God's praise. Then, upon the eve of her death, an angel had descended from above, bringing a message. "You will join God in Heaven," the angel said, "and He shall make you one of His angels, so you may continue to spread the joy of music in eternity." And it happened as the angel had said. The woman died peacefully, rose into Heaven, and became the Angel of Music.

Every time his mother told this story, she would look down at her son, with his bright blue eyes and curly hair, and say earnestly, "When I'm in Heaven child, I will send you the Angel of Music." To which Chris always replied, "No Mama. You won't die any time soon. You are too young and beautiful and good."

That morning, Erika found herself behind the mirror before the sun itself had woken, so she sat down to nap. Listening to the calming sound of Christian's even breaths, Erika began to rest. She woke hours later at the sound of water splashing.

Chris quickly rinsed his face with cold water to wake himself up and clear his head of these haunting thoughts of the past. Erika saw Christian splashing his face with cold water. She watched him turn around and physically winced at the state of his nose. It was red, and looked a bit swollen, not quite broken, but probably bruised.

Chris let his gaze wander all around the room, his thoughts following his eyes. _My bed... The floor... The ceiling... The mirror. _His eyes remained on the mirror. With resolve, Chris strode to the wall from which the mirror hung and softly stroked its reflective surface. Erika shied away even though he had no idea she was there.

Thinking of his later chorus practice, Chris began singing some of his part, "_In the fields the dawn summon us one barely sees the swallow in the depth of the blue sky_!" He paused, listening carefully. He could have sworn he heard another voice singing with him. Erika caught herself and didn't hold the note out too long, which is a good thing because Christian paused, curiosity evident on his face.

Chris cautiously continued, "_The weather is beautiful; earth is beautiful! To the fields the dawn summons us. The weather is beautiful; earth is beautiful! Praised be God! Praised be_-" he purposefully cut off and heard a soft lilting voice finish, "-_God_!" Erika gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. Christian heard. There was no way he couldn't have heard. Before Christian had a chance to react, Erika got to her feet and dashed down the tunnel, not looking back once.

In that one word, Chris heard so much beauty and holiness. In that one last sweetly sung word. Frantic to speak with the angel his mother undoubtedly sent him, Chris rapped on the mirror. "Angel. Angel. Come to me my Angel of Music." When no response came, Chris's shoulders fell and he turned away, one hand staying on the mirror until he had pulled too far away. Swiftly, Chris grabbed his script and, turning to glance one last time at the mirror, left the room.

~*~*~*~

During the following weeks, Erika had tried to stay away from Christian again. He didn't need her around. However, she always made it a point to watch all the rehearsals, so Erika saw him there. She did her best not to watch specifically just him, but it was harder than expected. _I never should have gone looking for him in the first place..._ Erika silently berated herself.

It was a couple weeks after overhearing the conversation in Debierne's office. Erika was making her usual night rounds of the Opera Populaire. It was during this time that she felt safe to venture out in the hallways themselves, instead of walking within the walls. While on her route, Erika would make sure all the instruments were properly cleaned, and occasionally play a few herself. Although she favored the violin, that night Erika was playing the piano.

The grand piano that they had in the auditorium was not nearly the fine quality of the one she had down under in her home, but it fit the opera's purposes. After checking to make sure the musicians had done their job and kept the instruments up to standards, Erika silently sat on the piano bench. Admiring the white ivory keys, Erika gave a rare smile. Before Christian, the only time Erika smiled was when she was alone with her music.

Taking a deep breath, Erika began to play Franz Liszt's _La Campanella_. She let the melody flow from her heart and through her fingers and heard it blossom aloud. Eyes closed, Erika's fingers flew across the keys, not one mistake being made. Then she heard footsteps. Cautious and quiet, yet the creaking floor betrayed the person all the same.

Quickly, Erika slid from the bench and withdrew to the deep shadows of the stage curtains. As she silently settled, the door creaked open and quickly shut. Curious as to who would be up at such an hour, aside from her, Erika carefully craned her neck. The intruder came closer and closer, the dark form gaining details. Finally the person was close enough to identify.

_Christian Daáe?_ Erika sneered silently. _What is that stage hand doing here?_ Sharply pulling down the brim of her fedora, in order to hide the mask on the right side of her face, Erika readied herself to handle the interruption. But before she could move, he began to sing.

"_My mother bore me in the southern wild. I live in darkness but my soul is light,_" Christian sang, his voice clear and his pitch almost perfect, even though it was obvious he had little to no training. "_Light as the forehead of an English child, but I'm in darkness and bereaved of light._" His voice carried such sorrow with such a simple tune. Erika felt her heart stir. _What is this Christian Daáe doing to me?_

"_My mother taught me underneath a tree. And sitting down before the heat of day, she took me on her lap and kissed me, and pointing to the east began to say._" Christian let the last note ring before taking a deep breath. _Not from the shoulders. Breathe from the diaphragm, the belt! _Erika mentally chastised. "_Look upon the rising sun, there God does live and gives his light and gives his heat away. And all the trees, and flowers, and beasts, and men receive their comfort from the morning through the bright noon day._"

Christian took another breath to sing some more, but before he could, more footsteps sounded. Instead of immediately bolting, Christian just stood silently, waiting for the softly giggling pair to pass. But as the giggling and footsteps drew closer, they began to slow. Christian began to quietly make his way off the stage.

The door creaked open again, and a girl's voice whispered softly, "I don't think anybody's around, so we should be okay." A ballet brat entered with one of the younger stagehands in tow just as Christian slipped out the other door on the far side of the theatre.

Erika watched silently, dismayed, as Christian slid away and then turned angrily toward the couple where they were now kissing deeply. Without a second thought, Erika ran out from the shadow, scaring the two and causing them to run out of the auditorium without a second glance. Once again alone, Erika looked towards the far door that Christian had left by. _Christian Daáe..._

**_~*~*~*~_**

Erika shook her head angrily. _If I hadn't ever heard Christian sing, I wouldn't be feeling this heartache..._ Below the catwalk that Erika was reminiscing on, Reyer, the stage manager who also ran chorus practice, was correcting Christian for the thousandth time in that practice alone.

Erika had noticed that over the last few weeks, Christian seemed to have lost his luster and heart. With each passing day, he grew less and less practiced and more and more quiet. Chris became more and more depressed, for his thoughts were dominated by his dead mother and ever elusive Angel of Music.

_He's seemed sad since the alleyway incident..._ Erika watched Christian as the practice ended. Then Megan Giry, Madame Giry's daughter, ran up to Christian, worry evident even from such a distance.

Erika neither disliked nor liked Megan. She knew that a couple of days after Erika first hearing Christian sing, he began courting Megan, but it didn't last more than a week or two. Still Erika held it against Megan, more so now that Christian had become so important to Erika. Cautious, Erika drew closer to Megan and Christian, trying to eavesdrop.

"Are you okay, Chris?" Megan looked at Christian carefully, her green eyes clouded with worry. "You look sick and you're not singing as well as I know you can." Christian looked down at his feet. "Maybe you should come home with me for the next few days." Erika inhaled sharply at the suggestion, but kept herself at bay.

Chris merely shook his head. "I'm fine. I'm just a little tired is all." He rubbed one of his eyes almost for effect. "I can't tonight anyways. I'm going to visit my mother's grave tomorrow." He gave a sad smile. "That's all. It's just been weighing on my mind." Christian looked down at his feet again. "How much I miss her..." He turned away from Megan and coughed, but Erika saw the tears glistening in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" Megan asked, laying a light hand on his arm. Christian nodded, coughing again. "Okay, but I want you to come back as soon as you can. No delays, right?" Christian, eyes once more on the floor, nodded again. "Okay. I hope you feel better." Meg gave him a quick hug and left. Without another word, Christian moved sluggishly towards his room. Erika watched him worriedly. _Maybe he is sick... I should visit him tonight just to make sure he's okay, _Erika began to nod slowly. _Yeah. Just a quick visit. I'll pop in and out. No lingering._

That night, Erika came up behind the mirror to find Christian finishing packing and speaking aloud to someone. Cautious, Erika crept forward more to see who he was talking to and, when she found no one else there, became confused. _Maybe he's more ill than I initially thought..._

As Chris packed, he spoke aloud to his hiding angel, a habit he picked up out of desperation for a connection with his mother. "I'm going to visit my mother's grave tomorrow. It's a half a day's ride away." He put in his spare cap. "In order to make it back in time for chorus practice, I have to depart tonight, which is why I am packing." He put in an extra set of clothes. "I do plan to come back but..." Chris was about to put in his Faust script, but stopped and slowly sat on his bed. Opening it, he began to finger some of the bars of music, softly humming some of his part to himself.

Turning the page, Chris found himself looking at some of Faust's lines. Tentatively, he began to sing, "_The fever of my senses dissipates at her sight_!" Erika's heart almost stopped when Christian glanced up towards the mirror, eyes shining. He glanced down at the script again and flipped through it until he stopped, his finger on a note. Without a word, Christian stood and walked over to the mirror before singing, "_If heaven, with a smile, had made her resembling you, she was an angel, an angel! Yes, I believe it!_"

Chris closed his eyes, allowing that last note to ring. When it finally died away, and no response came, he turned around and threw the script into his bag. Angry with himself, whether for believing in angels or for becoming so dependent on the idea of them, Chris quickly closed the bag, put on his hat and coat, and strode to the door.

Erika watched, chest aching and mind racing, as he closed the bag and readied himself to go in the same upset manner. Christian drew closer to the door and reached his hand toward the handle. Anxious to stop him, Erika stepped forward, accidentally hitting her hand against the glass. Chris slowly turned to look at the mirror once more, having heard a thud echo from behind him.

Figuring it was too late to change her mind, Erika took a deep breath and sang. "_I don't believe you! I don't believe you! And of me quietly you laugh, you laugh no doubt! I am wrong to stay to listen to you..._" Erika saw Christian's face light up and it made her heart soar. Chris's angel sang to him. She was there with her sweet voice. Chris did not need to look at the script to know the next part, for his Angel of Music gave him the responding lyrics.

Walking forward towards the mirror, Christian sang, "_No, I admire you. Let me take your arm, let me take your arm. God, did not God conduct me to your path? Why dread, alas, dread to listen? My heart speaks... listen, my heart speaks... Listen!_" Christian smiled wider, his eyes shining with pure joy. Chris enjoyed the rush that singing with his angel brought. He eagerly awaited her reply.

Erika couldn't speak. Her dream wasn't such a fantasy after all. Finally she was able to choke out, "I will be here when you return. All you have to do is sing for me. Sing for me and I will come." She watched happily as Christian grabbed his bag and left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**(A/N: I'm still getting such an overwhelming response to this story, and I thank each and every one of you who read this. :) On a slightly different note, I received a PM from someone who thinks I should be apart of this website called noveljoy. I've looked at it, but I'm still a bit apprehensive to actually participate... What do you guys think? The website is . You don't have to, but I really do value you guys' opinions. Thanks for reading and, as always, feel free to review. :3)**

Those two days that Christian was gone were agonizingly slow. Erika anxiously haunted the hallways, practically running through the walls. Debierne met with Firmin and Andre but the Vicomtess was absent from that meeting. Nothing important was mentioned, so Erika excused herself to walk through the hallways once more.

Finally, just as night fell, a carriage arrived with Christian in it. Returning from the draining trip was a relief for Chris. He had wept hard at his mother's grave, not wanting to leave her although she had already left him. However, upon his return, Chris began to feel excited at the idea of seeing his angel again.

Meg greeted him at the door, and was relieved to see that Christian seemed to be faring better. As soon as Erika knew it was him, she ran down to his room and waited behind the mirror. Thankfully she didn't have to wait long.

Only a few minutes after Erika arrived, Christian burst into the room, throwing his bag onto his bed. Walking towards the mirror, Christian sang, throwing his arms wide, "I have returned! Come to me, my Angel of Music!" He just stood there, arms spread out, waiting for her voice. Erika's stomach sank and chest warmed at the idea of being considered an angel.

Trying to hide where she really was, although Christian remained fixated on the mirror, Erika threw her voice to the ceiling. "_Oh silence, oh happiness, ineffable mystery, intoxicating languor!" _Erika crescendo-ed. "_I am listening and I understand this solitary voice which sings, which sings in my heart! Allow me a bit, as a favor..._" Erika felt as if she was floating high in the sky as she whispered tenderly in his ear, "Christian..." Such a sweet flavor filled her mouth after saying his name aloud. "Christian. I need you to practice songs from Faust."

Christian smiled wide before saying, "I will gladly work on Faust with you, my angel. I would do all you ask." Erika's heart leapt at such immediate devotion. Christian fetched the script from his bag and flipped open to his chorus part. "_Thus the light breeze lifts in thick swirling clouds the dust of the furrows, the dust-_"

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" Erika interjected angrily, her voice echoing all around the room. "You will not sing such rubbish. Your voice is for higher things." She paused, softening her tone. "I want you to sing Faust's part. The leading part." Christian made no effort to move. He just stood there, a shocked look on his face. Sighing heavily, Erika tried again. "How about we start around where you began, when Faust is looking for Marguerite. Here, I will give you the lead in." She paused, collecting her thoughts, and took a deep breath. Her angelic voice sang out again, every note perfectly sung and every second completely entrancing, "_No sir! I am neither a lady nor beautiful, not a lady, or beautiful, and I don't need for anyone to give me his hand_!"

Without any urging, Christian continued, "_By heaven! What grace! and what modesty! Beautiful child, I love you, I love you." _Those three words rang out and echoed into silence. Chris waited for his angel to speak with her lilting voice once more. Erika's heart skipped a beat. Christian was really singing to _her_ and those three words, even when scripted, still hit her hard.

Unable to continue with such an emotionally draining script, Erika decided to change what they were working on before she did something she would regret. Barely able to contain herself, Erika finally said in a strangled voice, "L-let's work on something else, and build up your register and tone before we try to work on Faust or anything that big again..." Erika paused, realizing that at the moment, all Christian had _was_ Faust. "I will have some music ready for you tomorrow. Christian..." Erika still loved uttering his name aloud. "Call for me the same time tomorrow night. I will come."

Before she could change her mind and leave, Erika threw her voice and whispered in Christian's ear, "I will always come for you..."

Chris spent the entire next day doubting whether those beautiful few minutes ever happened. He gazed into nothing during chorus practice and was nearly sacked for not paying attention. He drifted through the halls of the opera house, almost knocking Signora Carlotta over.

"What do you think you're doing, you little bug?" she shrieked. Turning quickly, Carlotta began pointing her finger at Chris, who quickly back up against the wall. "You, little insect, just need to stay out of my way! All you've done since you came here is mess with my perfect world!" She roughly pushed on his chest, keeping him against the wall. "You will never be more than a stage-hand. You do not belong here at the Opera Populaire." With a swish of her large dress, Carlotta strode off.

Bewildered, Chris just stood for a moment, wondering what he did to make Carlotta dislike him so. Shaking his head, Chris began his descent to his room once again.

After chorus practice ended, Erika had dashed down to Christian's room and, pressing a hidden button on the frame of the mirror, opened the mirror. Treading carefully, quickly, and quietly, Erika walked over to the bookshelf against the wall. She gingerly placed the sheet music she had gathered for their first official practice where it would be at Christian's eye level, which was only a tad bit higher than hers.

Returning to behind the mirror, Erika began to wait. As the minutes passed, Erika grew more and more anxious that Christian had forgotten and wouldn't come. Finally, about ten minutes late, Christian burst into the room, breathless. Worriedly, he sang out, "I am here again. Come to me."

Upset that Christian was late for no apparent reason, Erika nearly spat out, "You are late." Her rage quickly turned back to worry. "I had thought you would not come at all." Erika grew quiet and just watched Christian, his head bowed in shame (although he had no way to stop the delay). As the silence dragged on, Chris grew more anxious that his Angel of Music, his only connection to his deceased mother, had left him.

"Please..." Chris found himself saying. "Please don't be mad at me... I-I will always come for you..." Erika's throat grew tight as Christian echoed the same words she had used not too long ago.

Minutes passed agonizingly slow, but finally, after taking time to compose herself, Erika spoke, "There is some music I want you to sing. You can find the sheet music on the shelf to your left. Go grab it." Chris happily obliged. "We need to work on your range and tone. Thankfully, you seem to be naturally gifted, so it really is only some fine tuning." Chris nodded excitedly as he glanced over the song. It went a bit lower and a bit higher than he could at the moment, but Chris had no doubt that with the help of his Angel of Music, he could learn to easily reach these notes. "Let us begin with some scales." And the practice went along as Erika planned.

That night, and every night after, went wonderfully. Chris's range began to expand, his overall performance improved, and each day he spent with his angel felt like a God-send. It wasn't until after Faust had been performed that problems began to arise. They were working on a new production, with Carlotta playing the lead, when the manager Debierne came in with two very familiar gentlemen trailing behind him.

Erika watched from the highest catwalk, her note at the ready. She'd known that Debierne wouldn't announce his retirement and the change in management until after Faust had finished showing. So, when Faust was nearing its end, Erika had written a small note, outlining her usual demands, and carried it with her.

"This way, gentlemen, this way," Debierne called as he led the two gentlemen to the stage. "Rehearsals, as you see, are underway for a new production of Chalumeau's Hannibal." The manager turned to the ensemble. "Ladies and gentlemen! Madame Giry. May I have your attention, please. As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors about my imminent retirement." Chris looked over at Meg, who shrugged. This was the first time they've heard of such rumors. "I can now tell you these were all true. And it is now my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now OWN the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Richard Firmin," he gestured towards the smaller of the two, "and Monsieur Gilles André," he now gestured to the taller of the two.

Then it hit Chris. These were the two men that were in the office when he had barged in. They must have been talking about prices when he had walked in. _How was my problem so important that he had to pull away from such a meeting? _Chris wondered.

"Gentlemen," Debierne continued. "May I introduce Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for nineteen seasons running." Chris made gagging faces towards Meg as Debierne, Andre, and Firmin all fawned over Carlotta, who blushed and fluttered her eyelashes all the while holding out her hand to be kissed.

"If I remember correctly, Alyssa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of Hannibal," Andre said over the building noise. "I wonder, Signora, if as a personal favor, you would oblige us with a private rendition. Unless of course Monsieur Reyer objects." He turned expectantly towards the stage manager.

"No, my manager commands," Carlotta said, false sweetness dripping off her tongue. "Monsieur Reyer!" She gave the poor man a cold look.

"My diva commands," was his only response as he moved towards the piano. "Would two bars be sufficient introduction?"

Firmin, who had been all but silent till now, snapped testily, "Two bars would be quite 'sufficient!'" With a nod from Carlotta, Reyer began the aria.

Erika physically cringed as the woman's horrible screeching assaulted her ears_. I really do need to rid myself of that woman. She's no good anymore..._ As Carlotta sang with her usual over-the-top vibrato, Chris moved over to where Meg was standing to tell her of his epiphany.

"Those are the two men," he whispered in her ear. "They were the two men that were in the office that I told you about." She looked up at him, her green eyes mischievous.

"I had figured. But where's that beautiful lady you told me about? If she was there then, why isn't she here now?" Meg teased, prodding Chris in his side. He went to protest and say he didn't say that she was "beautiful" when a scream rang out as one of the back-drops fell and landed on top of Carlotta, in the middle of her aria. Smiling wickedly to herself, Erika pushed the lever to release a fly that would stop Signora Carlotta without harming her... too much. Erika's smile grew as Carlotta let out a shrill scream and fell to the ground. Andre and Firmin were badly shaken and Debierne did his best to take control of the situation. Meg's eyes practically glowed as she cried out, "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!"

Chris had heard many things about this Phantom since he'd come to the Opera Populaire, although he'd never experienced anything himself before. Apparently there was a ghost that haunted the opera and influenced major choices in conducting related affairs. Then, of course, there's the rumor that box five is kept empty for his use and he gets paid a ridiculous amount of money for doing nothing of significance. Not only that, but it had an entire domain that was buried underground and sometimes this "phantom" liked to prowl around in shady areas of the opera and cause all kinds of trouble.

Chris had been told of many different encounters with this phantom. One ballet girl had headed to the costume room and bumped into a taller person and, when the person turned, he had no face, just a rotting skull. One of the cleaning crew claimed that he's heard footsteps when there was no one there but himself; he's found things moved from where they were originally when nobody's been in the room; he's seen the shadow of a slightly tall and thin person that seemed to disappear seconds later; and he's even seen the man's hideous face and burning yellow eyes. Even Buquet claims to have had some supernatural experiences because of this ghost.

Chris, however, has never heard a footstep, seen a shadow, or has been frightened by a face. In fact, the only supernatural experience Chris has had since coming to the Opera Populaire was the blessed arrival and visits of his Angel of Music, but that had nothing to do with this "Phantom of the Opera." Did it?_ No. My angel is an angel, and this phantom is a myth. Just a rumor. Nothing more, _Chris chastised himself.

Erika smiled to herself. As annoying as that Megan Giry gets, she sure knows how to be dramatic. Erika had been known as the Phantom of the Opera for many years now. It began with a few accidental meetings with some ballet girls, janitors, and Buquet, the chief of the flies. Of course, everybody assumed she was a man, partially attributed to her unnatural height. The rumor around was that if anybody wandered into the lower levels of the opera house, they wouldn't return. Erika had no qualms about that particular rumor because it kept the lower levels clear and that's where she lived.

Sneering down at the chaos below, Erika watched on as Carlotta got her dress in a twist, and Andre and Firmin, the newly announced managers, tried their best to defuse the situation.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg cried and screamed once more.

"Good heavens, I've never known such insolence!" Firmin cried, red in the face, finally removing his hat to brandish it towards Meg.

"Signora, PLEASE!" Andre cried. He chuckled once before stating, "These things do happen." He looked at Firmin who nodded in agreement. Ubaldo Piangi nodded as well, to Signora Carlotta's shock. Erika nearly burst out laughing. That was NOT the right thing to say. It, in fact, set Signora Carlotta off on a rampage. She ranted and raged until she was red in the face, always bringing the subject back to her.

"'These things do happen?'" Carlotta repeated, stunned. "You have been here five minutes," she spat, "what do you know? Si, these 'things' do happen ALL the TIME." She turned on the old manager, Debierne, "And did you stop them happening? No." She turned back to Firmin and Andre, not forgetting to glare frostily at Piangi. "And you! Well you're as bad as HIM! 'These things do happen'..." Carlotta drew herself up, in full diva mode, "Well. Until you stop these 'things' happening, this thing," she pointed to herself, "does NOT happen!" With a quick turn, Carlotta stormed off, pausing a moment to say, "And even if these 'things' do stop happening, I refuse to any longer work with dear Signor Ubaldo Piangi." Soon all that was left of Signora Carlotta on the stage were many mouths open in astonishment.

Erika shook with silent laughter at everybody's open mouths. Figuring this would be the best time, she released her note and let it float down to the ground, where Madame Giry happened upon on it.

Coming out of the general shocked state first, Piangi looked frantically between the exit Signora Carlotta took and his new managers, his indecision evident on his sweaty forehead. After taking one last glance behind him, Piangi walked up to Firmin and Andre and loudly said, "Amateurs." He quickly followed after Carlotta, obviously going to beg that she let him sing with her again.

After Piangi left, time seemed to resume a normal pace and everybody began to gossip about the event that just happened. Chris turned to Meg with a smile, "Hey, now we have nobody to sing the lead parts." He gave a small laugh and said jokingly, "Maybe I can audition and get the part as Hannibal." Chris nudged Meg, waiting for her to laugh with him, but she just gave a small smile.

All she said was, "Maybe."

"La Carlotta will be back," Andre announced in denial. He shared an uncertain smile with Firmin.

"You think so Monsieur?" Madame Giry stepped forward, smiling ruefully. Andre nodded. "I have a message sir, from the Opera Ghost."

Firmin threw his hands in the air, "God in heaven, you're all obsessed!"

Ignoring his outburst, Madame Giry continued, "He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use," she gestured towards Box Five. Chris was worlds away.

_What if I did actually get to sing the leading role? _He gazed up at the ceiling, half looking for his angel. _With all the practice, I'm sure to be good enough. My angel and I would have finally reached our goal... But then my angel would leave me... _Chris snapped out of his trance at the thought of losing his angel permanently.

"- and reminds you that his salary is due," Madame Giry finished, and Firmin laughed harshly.

"His salary!" He continued to chuckle at the thought of some ghost getting paid.

Madame Giry, however, was not amused. "Monsieur Debierne paid him some twenty-thousand francs a month. But perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomtess de Chagny as your patron." She gave a wry smile.

Amidst the managers' protests, Chris thought, almost wistfully, to himself, _Vicomtess de Chagny? That must be who that woman was... How else do I know her? _The question plagued his mind. As the protests and arguments ensued, Erika toned out.

"A full house and we have to cancel!" Firmin was lamenting the loss of his two lead singers for Hannibal, and the profit he might have made that night. Meg nearly leapt to her feet in excitement, but she kept her lips pressed firmly together.

"Do not think about asking of an understudy for Signora Carlotta. She never had one. However, I know a few chorus girls who could make a good substitute for Signora Carlotta, if you are willing," Madame Giry put in.

Andre nodded sadly, knowing there was no other option. "That will take care of Alyssa's part, but what of Hannibal? Signor Piangi must have an understudy." He gave a hopeful look towards Madame Giry who merely shook her head.

"There is no understudy Monsieur!" Monsieur Reyer explained angrily. "The production is new." Andre threw his arms in the air in frustration and stalked off to a corner.

"Christian Daáe could sing it, sir," Meg interjected excitedly. Erika came back into the conversation.

"A chorus boy?" Firmin asked, disgusted at the thought of two chorus members playing the lead roles. It could only lead to disaster.

Meg frantically shook her head, her golden locks bouncing. "He's been taking lessons. From a great teacher," she insisted. Chris tried quieting his friend to no avail. He didn't want to lose his angel, even if it meant giving up the chance to sing a leading part. Erika stared sharply at her. How did she know? Did Christian tell her? Or was it Madame Giry? Only a few days before, Erika had revealed to Madame Giry that she was tutoring Christian when Madame Giry brought up his sudden improvement.

"From whom?" Andre asked cautiously. Chris looked at his feet, uncomfortable with the attention.

"I don't know, sir," he mumbled toward the ground.

Both managers groaned. "Not you as well," Firmin cried. Andre turned to look at Chris again, curiosity growing.

"Daáe. That's a curious name," he made a motion for Chris to come over. "Any relation to the violinist?"

Chris looked up in surprise. "My father, sir," he bitterly spat. Andre raised an eyebrow but said no more.

Madame Giry stepped forward, eyes solely on Chris. "Let him sing for you, Monsieur. He has been well taught." That caught Chris by surprise. He had told Meg that he was receiving lessons when she had noticed his improved voice, but, to his knowledge, Madame Giry knew nothing of his improving voice or teacher.

Andre stared at Chris for a minute, contemplating, before saying, "Very well."


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N: I'm sorry, but this chapter is gonna be a bit shorter than the others. But I think you guys need a short chapter every once in a while, just to keep you from getting too greedy. :P The update on Friday will be longer, I promise. And it will be full of Erika and Christian interactions, but beware the Vicomtess... }:D As always, read and review.)**

Chris just sat on his bed, staring at his full length mirror in a daze. Slowly, his eyes drifted towards the script that sat next to him on the covers. The events of the last few days almost seemed like a dream. _It couldn't have really happened... What will she say? _Chris's eyes moved back to the mirror.

He had sung Hannibal's part for Andre and Firmin, half hoping that they would let him have the part and half wishing they wouldn't so he could have more time with his angel... HIS angel. After the last note rang out, a rush of applause came and a people crowded around Chris. After a minute or two of the rabble of oncoming compliments, the two new managers pushed through. Andre frantically shook Chris's hand, a large smile plastered on his face.

"You, Monsieur, are going to be Hannibal," Andre's smile did not fade for a second. "And our show will not suffer a second for it." Firmin tried to smile, but it came out a sarcastic grimace. Chris's arm was going numb, so he pulled his hand from Andre's grasp.

"How well do you know the lines?" Firmin asked, getting straight down to business. He had dropped the somewhat-smile.

"I-I know most of them..." Chris dropped his gaze, afraid to speak too loudly, hoping his angel didn't hear. "I didn't learn them on purpose, I-I just picked up on them." Firmin chuckled uncertainly.

"And the actual music? Did you just," he paused, "'pick up on them' too?" Both he and Andre laughed again. "It doesn't really matter how you know, just that you can sing well enough to keep the audience." Firmin whacked Chris heartily on the back.

Chris shook his head angrily, pulling out of the memory. _How can I … How can I do this? _He picked up the script and angrily flipped through some of the pages, not really looking at anything in particular. After staring at one page for a few seconds, he slammed the papers closed and threw the packet against the wall next to the mirror. Chris stood up, the bed creaking, and shuffled over, going to pick it up.

Erika stayed behind after everybody else had exited the room. Christian had sung at his best. At first, he was too nervous and stumbled a bit, but after he finally let the music take control, his voice flew above everything else. Of course Andre and Firmin were ecstatic and all too happy to accept Christian as the role of Hannibal afterwards. However, Erika lagged behind just to ensure that they would remain true to their word.

"That boy..." Andre stared, dazed, down the passage that Christian had exited through. "His voice was the most ... I mean, I've never ... It was indescribable." Firmin just stood broodingly to the side, this pudgy fingers gently stroking his curling moustache.

"That is true... that is true..." he said quietly. "However, the masses will want Signora Carlotta and Signor Piangi. Their popularity is what sells the tickets, not some chorus boy's voice." Erika silently seethed. The Opera was about sharing the pure beauty that can only be found in music, not some stupid profit.

Stomach still clenched with rage, Erika called out in a deep booming voice that seemed to echo from the ceiling, "If you wish to keep your jobs, I would greatly suggest you would reconsider your thought of cutting Monsieur Daáe from the cast list. It would be very unwise." With a small smile of satisfaction, Erika watched Andre and Firmin jump and scurry out of the room. _That should do it_, Erika thought before heading down the tunnel to Christian's room.

As she drew closer to Christian's mirror, the light from his room grew in the tunnel. Unable to contain her excitement and joy, Erika began to sing softly, "Christian ... Christian ... Christian ..." She repeated until he answered.

Chris jerked up his head. His Angel of Music was there. She was calling him softly with that entrancing voice of hers. He quickly picked up the script and shoved it under his pillow, hoping she hadn't seen it or heard the news.

"Christian... Christian... Christian..." The voice was getting closer.

"Angel of Music, I hear you," Chris lifted his head and closed his eyes, letting her voice encompass him. "Speak, I listen." He drifted back to the mirror.

Erika had reached the mirror, and she drew close to the surface when she saw Christian.

"Christian. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. You've done it." Erika smiled widely. "You have that lead part you've always wanted," at these words Christian winced. Trying to reassure him and sedate his fear, Erika said, "You will do well and they will love you. Have no fear."

Christian glanced up at the mirror, staring almost directly into Erika's eyes, worry still lining his face. Several times, he opened and closed his mouth, saying nothing, before finding the right words. "W-will you..." Christian swallowed heavily. "Will you hear me sing? Will you come back?" Erika saw Christian's Adam's apple bob up and down again, and noticed his eyes slowly turning red. "I don't want you to go away..." Chris whispered, rubbing his forehead.

Erika was physically stunned. _He doesn't want me to leave?_ Her eyes were trained on Christian's nervous face. A war raged inside of Erika until she regained her control. When she answered, her voice was tender and had a hint of something more. "I will not leave you, Christian. Your angel will always be here for you." Erika paused, seeing the smile spread on Christian's face. "I will hear you sing, and, if you wish, I will meet you here again after your debut." Erika opened her mouth to say more, but stumbled on the words. Finally she was able to say, "I will always come when you call, remember that Christian." Chris turned to face the mirror, eyes glistening with happiness.

"Thank you," Chris whispered, finally at peace.


	9. Chapter 9

**(A/N: Hullo my faithful followers! I bring good tidings of drama and emotional tension. I hope you enjoy the latest installment of Phantom, Adorable and Charming, because I've enjoyed writing it. :D And a special thanks to my ever helpful beta SesshomaruLover23. She's put so much effort into this story that it's just as much her baby as it is mine. :3 I hope you enjoy and, as always, read and review.)  
**  
Christian stood in a slight daze off stage. He had just exited stage left after the curtain call. His entrance was welcomed with a thunderous applause that almost stunned him to the point of freezing. But he pulled through and gave a gentle smile as he bowed deeply to the standing audience. Now that the audience wasn't watching his every move, Chris allowed himself the chance to enjoy the moment.

Feeling giddy beyond belief, Chris spun on the spot and smothered a laugh. A wide grin spread across his face, and he did a small hop of excitement. When Meg came off stage, he swept her up in a hug, to her surprise. Chris gently put his best friend down, and she giggled.

Meg grabbed Chris's hands and said excitedly, "Oh, Chris! You were so great! Everybody loved you. I'm sure your angel was proud." At this, Chris looked down at his feet, cheeks reddening slightly. He started to shake his head in protest, but Meg stopped it with a hand to his chin. She lifted and Chris found himself looking into her dark green eyes once again. "You **were** very good. She **will **be pleased."

Those were the last private words they had together because Chris was then swamped with people from the chorus and co-stars congratulating him on his premier success. There was such a clamor that Chris could barely catch snippets of what was being said to him.

"You did great I-"

"I can't believe-"

"Piangi has been-"

"Did you hear the crowd-"

Chris smiled, nodded, and gave a small "Thank you," to every compliment that passed his way. The crowd continued to swarm around Chris and he began to feel a tad bit claustrophobic. _I can't breathe. They're too close. I'm suffocating!_ Chris began to inwardly panic. He frantically tried to work his way through the mass of people, hoping to reach empty air so he could breathe again, but the shifting group of bodies seemed endless. As he passed more and more people, Chris began to feel hysterical. _I can't get out! I CAN'T GET OUT!_

Chris was about to cry out in desperation when Madame Giry's staff hit the floor with enough force to create a knock that silenced the crowd. After the din died away, Madame Giry said calmly, "I do believe our leading male needs to rest in his room. Tonight has been taxing and ALL OF YOU," she turned a cold glare towards the group, "are not helping. Go. Leave. I'm sure you have something to do." Madame Giry emphasized the end of her small speech with another hit of her staff against the floor.

While the mass of people quickly dispersed, Chris walked up to Madame Giry, who was talking quietly with her daughter. As he neared them, their conversation died away, both of them watching the approaching man with identical dark green eyes. "I..." Chris tried to say. "I just..." Madame Giry gave him an expecting gaze. Chris decided to be direct. "Thank you. I really needed them to leave." He gave Madame Giry a warm smile that was returned with a tight-lipped one.

"It was nothing," Madame Giry said. "I know you have things you wanted to do..." She looked at him knowingly. "I figure you've waited long enough to return to your room." Chris smiled and nodded ecstatically and dashed down the hall to meet his angel.

~*~*~*~

Erika waited behind Christian's mirror anxiously after his performance. Christian had done splendidly; his tone was strong and he hit every note with ease. She could barely contain her own excitement as he received a standing ovation. Now, pacing back and forth, Erika was waiting for him to return.

Chris quickly closed the door behind him and promptly locked it. He didn't want to be disturbed while he was with his angel. He wanted to be able to live every moment without interruption. As soon as he was sure that he had securely closed and locked the door, Chris practically ran over to the mirror, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

"Oh, Christian. The angels wept as you sang tonight." Without any prompting, his angel was there, and that pleased Chris more than the performance had. "You deserved every second of the audience's applause. I am proud of you." The smile was once again evident in his angel's voice. But there was still that other something. It was almost a mixture of longing and loneliness.

"My Angel of Music," Erika's heart still fluttered when he called her that, even if it was because he had no other name for her. "I could not have done it without you. I wish there was some way to show you my full gratitude." Chris's voice grew husky with emotion. "I wish there was some way I could repay you..." He finished in a voice that took Erika's breath away.

"Christian-" Erika took a deep breath, ready to say more, but a resounding knock interrupted her. Enraged, Erika stormed deeper into the tunnel, growling ferally in her throat. Christian also growled angrily deep in his throat as he leapt up and stormed to the door.

Swiftly unlocking it, Chris pulled open the door and said coldly, "What! ... Can I help you with?" Looking at the intruder, Chris was surprised to find it was the well-poised blonde that was in the office that fateful day. "Pardon, Madame." He looked at his feet sheepishly, desperately trying to remember the Opera House's patron's name. _Vicomtess de Chagny!_ Chris recalled. The petite woman simply smiled and looked at Chris expectantly with her swirling hazel eyes. "Forgive me, Vicomtess. Would you like to come in?" He stepped aside, holding the door open for her to enter.

Turning back, Erika saw that Christian had let the intruder into his room. The anger that was burning strong in her stomach turned cold and heavy when Erika saw that it was the Vicomtess de Chagny. Drawing closer to the mirror, Erika watched, eyes burning.

The Vicomtess de Chagny quietly entered, gazing around Chris's room. Figuring she had something important or private to say, Chris closed the door. She turned sharply at the click of the door closing, but made no comment against it. Chris followed her with his eyes as she slowly walked around his small quarters, turning until she was facing him again.

A twinkle shone as she tilted her head and smiled. "Do you really not recognize me?" Her voice was soft and teasing. Chris slowly shook his head, confused but surer than ever that he somehow knew this wealthy Vicomtess. "Oh, Chris," she gave a small smile. "You really don't remember the little girl that you spent a summer with all those years ago?" And then it all came rushing back.

When his mother was alive and well, she worked as a governess for families that were either wealthy enough to afford one or too busy to bother worrying about their own children, though it was usually both. One spring, when Chris was about ten, his mother was looking for work and found a job with a noble family that wanted her, not as a full-time governess, but as a temporary one. She was told upfront that the job would only last the summer, from May to September, but Chris's mother took the job anyways.

The child she ended up watching over was a small thing, even though she was about eight or nine herself, who was full of spunk. She always wore light colored dresses that were cheap enough that she wouldn't get yelled at when they got dirty while she played. Her golden-blonde hair was always down, but pulled out of her face, and her round cheeks had a few freckles splashed across the bridge of her curved nose. When Chris first met this little girl, he took one look at her hazel eyes and stuck his tongue out. She swiftly responded with a raspberry and they became fast friends.

Unfortunately, it did not last. At the end of the summer, Chris promised his new friend that he would do everything he could to see her again. Standing strong, Chris tried not to cry as he left his one friend, for he had always had trouble making any. He held the tears back until she ran up and pecked him on the cheek, tears already running freely down her face. That was the last time he had seen her.

"Raoula?"


	10. Chapter 10

**(A/N: I am loving the response I'm receiving for this story. I have so many faithful followers and oh mah gawsh! I'm just too excited! I'll just get on with the story. :D)**

Chris looked at the Vicomtess de Chagny again. A smile grew on her face, and her eyes lit up as her dear old friend finally recognized her. Erika's heart sank deeper as the Vicomtess's smile grew wider. _Raoula... _Erika mentally spat the name.

"Good Lord, Raoula! I'm so sorry I didn't realize it was you!" Chris impulsively embraced her, but quickly released her, red spreading on his cheeks.

"Oh, Chris," Raoula de Chagny smiled up at him. Erika already hated the way she breathed his name. "I'm upset that you didn't know me right away. But I suppose I shouldn't be too angry. I didn't realize it was you that day in the office till Monsieur Debierne came back in muttering under his breath about 'notes' and 'stagehands' and 'the imbecile Daáe.'" She laughed, a dainty tinkling sound that made Chris break out in a wide smile. Erika simply curled her lip as Raoula laughed. That's not what happened. She practically attacked Debierne in order to find out who it was.

"I can't believe it's you!" Chris excitedly grabbed her hands. "After all these years! You look so different!" His wide grin turned into a sheepish one. "I mean... not in a bad way. It's just you..." Chris let go of her hands and waved his own around trying to find the right words to say. "You grew up." He let his hands fall to his sides, unable to find anything better say.

Raoula smiled at Chris. "You've grown up too, Little Chrissie." Both Erika and Christian winced at the demeaning nickname. "I hope you still have that red scarf I gave you." She gave him a firm poke on his arm. During that summer they spent together, Raoula had knitted a long scarf for Chris to take with him and wear. It was extra-long and a very bright red, but when he received it, Chris promised to wear it every winter. And he had kept his promise.

"I do," Chris turned to his dresser and rummaged through one of the drawers until he pulled out a ratty, worn red scarf. Erika couldn't take the pain building in her chest, just where she couldn't reach it. Quickly, she escaped a little farther down the tunnel, before Christian's interactions with Raoula could hurt her more. "I wore it every winter, as I promised." Chris walked back over to Raoula, who had covered her mouth with her hands in surprise. "Every time I walked the cold streets, whether it was Paris or not, I wore this painfully bright red scarf, hoping I would be seen." Chris smiled down at Raoula, who had grabbed and was stroking the old scarf.

"Oh, Christian," her voice was quiet again. Raoula looked up from the present she had given him all those years ago, her eyes shining. "Who did you want to see you?" She asked, thinking she already knew the answer.

Chris's eyes were on his feet again, red creeping onto his face and neck. He rubbed the back of his neck as he mumbled, "I was hoping... You would see me..." Chris looked back up at Raoula. He found that while his head was down, she had moved closer. She was so close that Chris could see the few freckles that still rode over the bridge of her nose. Chris hurriedly looked down and took a step back.

Raoula took another step forward, her arm stretched out, and offered the scarf back to him. "Well you caught my attention, without the scarf," she said quietly, the smile evident in her voice. "You were magnificent, Christian." Chris's head jerked up, surprise apparent on his face. "I'm so happy that you were able to achieve your dream. You sang your heart out and the audience took it willingly. You have a great career ahead of you."

Raoula's words made Chris blush deeper. "I-I had some help. I couldn't have done this on my own..." His voice trailed off. _Should I tell her?_ Chris pondered, kicking the wooden floor with his shoe. He glanced up at Raoula, seeing her eyes trained on him intently.

"From whom?" Raoula's question echoed Andre's those many days ago, but this time Chris had a proper answer. Rushing back to the mirror, Erika saw Christian internally fight with himself before speaking.

"Do you remember those stories that my mother told us?" Raoula nodded. "Do you remember the story about the Angel of Music?" Another nod. Erika's heart sank lower. "My mother told me, 'When I'm in heaven child, I will send you the Angel of Music.'" Chris swallowed. It was still hard to remember his mother. "Well, she is in heaven," he turned to look at Raoula again, "and I have been visited by the Angel of Music." There. It was out in the open.

Erika waited with bated breath as the silence stretched out. Raoula was silent for a moment, but then she smiled. "No doubt about it," she said and patted his shoulder. "And now, you will join me for supper." Raoula's smile grew wider while Christian's face fell. Seeing his hesitation, she tried to urge him to get ready. "You can change into something nice while I go get us a carriage."

Chris still didn't move, but he opened his mouth in protest. "Raoula! I can't!" She stopped at the doorway, hand on the handle, and looked back at him in surprise. "The Angel of Music is very strict. I-"

"I shan't keep you out too late," Raoula smiled again, still thinking it was a joke. "You will be fine." She stepped into the hallway, almost closing the door entirely behind her. "Three minutes!" Raoula popped her head back in and finally closed the door with a smile.

"Raoula..." Christian whispered as he sat on his bed. He lowered his head into his hands. "Raoula..." _Why don't you understand? _Chris lamented silently. _Why can't you see that my Angel is more important to me than supper? _He released a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Erika felt a sharp pain in her chest and a burning anger in her stomach.

**_~*~*~*~_**

Standing in silence, Erika felt a war wage within herself until anger won out. "INSOLENT GIRL! That slave of passion, BASKING in YOUR glory!" Angrier than she'd ever been in Christian's presence, Erika's voice was bitter with pure hatred. "IGNORANT FOOL! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" Breathing heavily, Erika waited for the anger to burn away.

Chris had heard his angel scold him many times during his lessons, but such anger had never been as prominent as now. Despite his best wishes, Chris found himself frightened by this cold side to his Angel.

Desperate to calm his tutor, and dear friend, Chris called out, "Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen." He closed his eyes, willing for her to listen to his pleas. "Stay by my side and guide me. Angel my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, Maestro!" Although she was female, Chris felt that the word 'Mistress' was slandered and, therefore, unworthy of his Angel. His words hit home and Erika's rage dissipated.

"Flattering child, you shall know me." Erika quickly softened her voice, reigning in her anger. "You shall see why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside." Chris was puzzled by that last message, but did as he was bid. Standing, he walked over to the mirror, getting closer than he ever did during those precious lessons.

As he drew closer, Chris began to see a face in the mirror, one that wasn't his own. Although the right half of the face was obscured in darkness, Chris saw that the face was long and ended with a thin chin. The nose was slender and straight, and the mouth had a thin top lip but a full bottom one. As he continued to observe the face, Chris found himself staring into those golden eyes that he had dreamed about since that chance meeting in the alley way.

Erika felt his eyes search every inch of her visible face. Eyes still guarded, Erika chanced a look at Christian. Relief flooded though her as she saw a smile break Christian's face. Chris smiled, warmth filling him. _My Angel. Mine_. Overwhelmed with happiness, Chris cried out, "Come to me, strange angel!" Chris spread his arms wide, awaiting her response with his eyes trained on the mirror.

Slowly, and almost impossibly, the mirror began to spin and multiply. Chris almost backed away until he heard her voice, calling to him. "I am your Angel of Music." He took a step forward. "Come to your Angel of Music." Under the spell of her entrancing voice, Chris had no choice but move forward and go towards the dark end of the tunnel of swirling mirrors, leaving no trace in his room. Erika drifted back before Christian could see her in the light, still singing, until the mirror closed behind them.

Raoula opened the door after knocking a couple of times to find it empty. _Where is Christian?_ she asked herself. She stepped inside and looked around. Completely confused, Raoula called, "Christian!"

**(A/N: You see that? That little review box? It's calling you. It's saying, "Type something. Write a review. You know you want to..." Listen to it. Gimmie a review. :3)**


	11. Chapter 11

**(A/N: Sorry for the late day update. I spent my entire day at Six Flags and only just got home at like 9, so I was a bit preoccupied. :D Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've begun shortening the chapters that way I can draw out the tension and give myself more time to write more. Juggling two running stories whilst working on a third SUPER-LONG Sherlock one-shot is NOT easy. But it'll be worth it. :3 As usual, I own nothing, my beta has put just as much life into this story as I have, and don't forget to read and review. :D)  
**  
Erika grabbed the lantern she always keeps close and lit it. Hesitantly, she offered her hand to Christian, head down and shoulders hunched. Without a word, he gripped it, sending a flurry of warmth and goose bumps up her arm. With his hand securely in hers, Erika began their descent.

Christian followed behind his angel, her hand lightly gripping his. She carried a lantern in her right hand out in front of her, lighting the passage, and because of the soft glow, Chris could see more of his Angel of Music. Her hair was a deep, dark black that was a little longer than shoulder length and pulled back with a small bow. Instead of the usual dress women wore, Chris's angel wore a white shirt, trousers, and a long voluminous black cloak that billowed as she continued her brisk pace down the tunnel. On her hands were black gloves and a wide-brimmed hat upon her head.

Curious to see more of his angel, Chris stopped where he stood, hoping she would notice and stop as well. As they walked, Erika's mind was a maelstrom. _Why did I bring him? What about him makes me act and feel this way? What will he do when he sees my... _She realized they had stopped. Confused, Erika turned her head slightly to look at Christian's earnest face. His rich blue eyes stared back at her under furrowed eyebrows. Erika felt a light tugging on her hand, so she drew closer to Christian, careful not to turn her head.

Wanting to see more than just the visible half of her, Chris pulled on the hand and arm he was holding. She drew nearer, cautious but not resisting. Then, Chris pulled her arm to the side, forcing his angel to face him, her full face in the light, those golden eyes burning with apprehension. Erika turned to face Christian, her head down and wide brim hat hiding her face and mask.

Slowly... ever so slowly... Erika looked up, silently begging for forgiveness for her lies. What Chris saw shocked him to the core. Those golden eyes, now pleading, gazed at him. _Her face..._ was all Christian could think. The entire right side of her face was obscured by a glossy white mask that extended from her hairline to a little past her chin. _A white mask? She's no angel. This ... _-Chris struggled to find a suitable word- _woman is the Phantom of the Opera. _In that small realization, all of the dreams Chris had built up around his mysterious Angel of Music came crashing down with an inky blackness.

Finally, his eyes rolled back into his head and Erika leapt forward to catch him. Blessed with abnormal strength in her lean body, Christian wasn't a heavy load.

Slowly lowering both of them to the floor, Erika took the time to look at Christian. This was the closest she'd ever been to him. He wore a simple white shirt with inflated sleeves, a close fitting black vest, and black trousers. His hair, as always, was disheveled and in his face. Erika's eyes traveled up and down his resting face before the reality of what happened hit home.

_Oh, God..._ Even though she'd stopped believing in the deity, the expression was too common not to use. Erika cradled Christian's head, tears running tracks down her face. _I only wanted to be close to you ... I only wanted to be with you...  
_

Careful not to let the tears hit Christian's face, Erika pulled out her white handkerchief, first drying her face, then lightly dabbing his. She watched him while she still could, as she moved the handkerchief back and forth lightly across his forehead. Finally, he began to stir. Slowly shaking his throbbing head, Chris mumbled something about needing to see Madame Giry. He tried to sit up, only to be lightly pushed back down onto the ground. Groaning, Chris slowly opened his eyes to a blurry, dimly lit ceiling. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times before seeing the dark shape and golden eyes that hovered above him.

Slightly confused, Chris watched those golden eyes that watched him with such sincere worry and sadness until it came back to him. The mirror opening to him. The dark cave with his golden-eyed angel. _The mask..._ Chris recoiled from the Phantom of the Opera, scooting backwards till his back was up against the tunnel wall. Those hauntingly entrancing golden eyes showed emotions that quickly flitted from concern to loneliness and finally stopping at cold acceptance. Erika felt hollow. Empty. But nothing she could do would change that.

Chris watched as the Phantom rose and angrily grabbed the lantern she had placed on the tunnel floor. Softly, almost impossibly so, Chris heard her say frostily, "We must go." She began down the tunnel, taking the light with her, but Chris just sat there in the dark, leaning against the wall of the tunnel. Erika went down the tunnel until she noticed that it was only her footsteps that echoed off the walls. Turning, she doubled back till she reached where Christian had remained, curled into a ball against the wall. The Phantom slowly approached Chris's curled up figure, as if trying to keep from scaring him away.

His once-angel squatted, her cloak pooling around her feet and a coil of rope visibly swinging around her waist. "You cannot stay here. You will probably starve or die of dehydration or hypothermia," she said, her voice matter of fact. Then her golden eyes softened, as well as her voice. "I will not hurt you, but we really must be going. It is not safe to stay in one spot for too long." Chris just stared at this enigmatic figure blankly. Sighing heavily, Erika said the one word she almost never used, "Please..."

This seemed to strike true with Christian, for he tried to get up, but he was still too shocked to lift himself. Setting the lantern down, Erika held out her gloved hands. Chris took them lightly and almost cried out in surprise at the strength of her grip. He was swiftly lifted up, and the Phantom looked slightly up with her golden eyes, still holding his hands. _Those golden eyes. They seem so..._ Chris unconsciously smiled down at his angel, _safe..._

Erika heard a clank echo from behind Christian, and she didn't wait to see what made it. She swiftly reached down, grabbed the lantern, and turned on her heel before starting to stride off down the tunnel for a second time. Chris stumbled after her, following closely to the tall, slim figure. They walked in silence for a minute or two, Christian's long strides in time with Erika's.

"Can I ask you something? I think I deserve at least that..." Christian's soft voice finally broke the blanket of quiet. Puzzled, Erika simply nodded slowly. Chris looked down at his feet as they trekked and tripped over the uneven tunnel floor. "W-what is your name?" he asked, finishing the question in his mind, _-because I cannot call you an angel, but I do not believe you a demonic phantom..._ The simple question caught Erika off guard and she stopped suddenly, causing Chris to lightly bump into her.

She turned to look at Christian, only her left side visible out of habit, unable to hide the disbelief. "M-my name?" This was the first time her angelic voice had sounded uncertain. _I don't think anybody has asked for my name in a while... Personally I'm surprised I can still remember it... _Turning forward to hide the emotions flashing across her face, Erika softly answered, "You may call me Erika," before starting forward again.

Chris didn't move. He just stood there, lost in thought. "Erika..." Chris whispered with a small smile before jogging to catch up with her.

**(A/N: I kinda wanted to end this chapter at that first break, but I'd figured you guys would kill me, so I decided to end it on a bit of a happier note. I really hope their first REAL meeting has met expectations. :) And please remember to review.)**


	12. Chapter 12

**(A/N: Wow. I'm twelve chapters in. This is exciting. We've experienced Christian's meeting with Erika, but now we'll see how their relationship (?) develops. I hope you do enjoy this next chapter and the one on Friday. I'm sorry to announce that as school starts, my updates will become less frequent. I'll try to make it once a week, but this is my first year of college, so it might end up being more infrequent than that. I'll give you a heads up as to when my updating schedule is going to change. Sorry... Enjoy the story and feel free to review!)**

As they delved deeper into the tunnels, Chris's thoughts were filled with the woman he knew as Angel, Phantom, and Erika. As she walked in front of him, Chris watched Erika and the way she moved. Her step was long and her movements were lithe. Her fingers were lengthy, and, from what he had seen, as graceful as the rest of her. Chris is tall, around six feet, but Erika was tall enough for the top of her head to reach his nose.

They continued walking in silence, Chris's mind preoccupied, until Erika slowed to a stop. Chris pulled out of his dream-like trance and gasped in wonder. They were standing in a cavernous cave that held a softly lapping lake in its heart. Erika smiled softly at Christian's unguarded awe as she walked down to the shore and stopped by a small boat. Erika glanced back at Christian, making sure only the left side of her face was showing, and gestured for him to climb aboard the vessel.

_Why did she hide from me?_ Chris couldn't help but wonder. _When we first spoke, it was almost as if she didn't want anything to do with me..._ Then he remembered the encounter in the alleyway.

Careful, tongue sticking out the edge of his mouth, Christian climbed aboard, but his foot slipped and he instinctively grabbed her arm. Erika flinched away, unused to human touch, but let Christian steady himself. When Chris regained his balance, he slowly sat himself down on one of the many cushions on the boat. Erika hopped onto the small vessel with ease, picked up the push pole, and began guiding them onto the murky waters. All was quiet except for the soft splashing of the pole breaking the water's surface.

"What were you doing that day?" Chris blurted. He couldn't see her face, but he could tell by the way she tensed her shoulders, Erika knew what he was referring to. Erika went rigid as so many excuses flashed through her mind. When she didn't answer, he added, "In the alley." Erika turned slightly to look at Christian for a moment or two before turning back to face the bow. Chris wouldn't have her hide in her shell, so he lightly grasped her cloak, tugging it as he slowly began to make his way towards her. "Why were you there?" Chris asked again.

Erika's golden eyes found and held Chris's blue ones. Slowly, ever so slowly, Chris raised himself up from the floor of the boat till he was right in front of her, his eyes still on hers. Deliberately she placed her hand gently over Chris's hand that had grabbed her arm as he stood. Still silent, Erika began to pry his hand off, but Chris quickly grabbed both of her shoulders, almost making her drop the push pole.

"Please..." Chris's plea shattered Erika. His eyes flitted back and forth, nothing but sincerity in them. Erika averted her gaze down, from his eyes to his lips and finally resting on his chest.

"I-I..." Her soft voice broke the stretching silence. "I followed you when you left the opera house," she whispered. Placing her hands on his chest, Erika pushed away from Chris and turned, hiding the tears welling up in her eyes as she quietly said, "I am always watching over you." Her voice betrayed none of the emotions that overwhelmed her at the moment. Staring into oblivion as she began to move them forward once more, Erika let her tears dry before they could fall. After a long pause, she turned back to Chris, eyes now devoid of emotion, and said sharply, "We need to keep going. I want to get there soon."

And in silence they continued across the underground lake's glassy surface.

**_~*~*~*~_**

The boat hissed as it hit the gravelly shore. The ride had been silent after Chris's question, but as he struggled to maintain balance while exiting the vessel, Erika spoke. "Here. Let me help you." It was more of a command than anything and the tone reflected that, but there was not a hint of anger or harshness. Just a cold apathy. Chris grasped the gloved hand without hesitation, and was swiftly pulled to standing. Chris didn't let go of the strong grip until his feet were firmly on shore, and it pleased him somewhat that this enigmatic woman didn't pull away either.

Following him, Erika leapt of the boat with a grace that Chris couldn't help but envy. With long strides, Erika glided past Chris and ascended a small hill before disappearing into an opening at the summit. Not waiting to see if he made it, and too embarrassed to see his reaction to the organized chaos of her home, Erika made her way into the dining room.

Chris scrambled to follow her, not wanting to be too far away in this unfamiliar place. As he reached the crest of the little incline, Chris couldn't help gasping at what met his eyes.

Before him lay an entire world, far beneath the Opera Populaire, but still somehow a part of it. The room he stood in presently was almost a sitting room. It was on the small side, but had a high ceiling and had five doors along the back wall, and all but the center were closed. There was a small, and very well cushioned, couch that had a coffee table resting in front of it. There were some, what he assumed to be, Persian rugs covering the cave floor, a fireplace, and candles covered the mantle of the fireplace and the two side tables that sat on either side of the couch.

Curious of how the infamous Phantom of the Opera lived, Chris stepped further into Erika's domain, his eyes devouring every last little detail in hopes of learning more about his Angel. Chris smiled openly when he realized he was over the initial shock and still able to call this woman 'his Angel.'

Moving slowly, Chris maneuvered about the sitting room from door to door, testing to see if they were open. The one on the farthest right was securely locked, to Chris's dismay, but when he moved to the second from the right, Chris was delighted to find it open. Pushing on the door, Chris found himself in a room that was far more massive than the first. Its walls were lined with tall bookshelves, all of which were full to the brim of books, and a sliding ladder that reached to the highest shelf. In one corner of the room, there was a simple wooden desk, with multiple drawers and a cherry finish, covered in an organized mass of papers. In the center of the room was an amalgamation of musical instruments all ranging from soprano to bass; strings, brass, woodwinds, and even a few percussion instruments. But what drew Chris's gaze was the grand piano in the midst of all of them, its glossy black surface free of dust, showing its frequent use.

Striding carefully towards the magical instrument, Chris kept admiring its beautiful form. Like in the previous room, there were candles all around, but none had found their way onto the piano, as if it was too sacred to be soiled by the wax. He trailed his fingers along the ivory keys, pressing a few as they passed, and reveled in their flawless tones until his fingers met the edge of a sheet of paper. Glancing down, Chris found sheets upon sheets of musical scores, some he knew and others that were completely unknown to him.

Picking up one labeled _Music of the Night_, Chris began to softly sing the haunting melody. "_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_."

**_~*~*~*~_**

Glancing up to the high ceiling, Erika saw that the sun would be in the optimum position soon, so she'd better get working on dinner. Moving to the kitchen on the far side of the room, Erika looked around for something simple but still delicious and rich.

Finally thinking of a recipe, Erika removed her cloak and hat, tossing them to the side, and searched for what she needed. After gathering her ingredients, Erika put some water on to boil and began cooking the chopped sausage and sautéing the mushrooms, spinach, onions, and garlic all on her wood stove. As the water began to roll, Erika slipped in the spaghetti noodles. When the sausages were all cooked, she added some chopped tomatoes and tomato juice. When that was heated, Erika mixed the sautéed vegetables and some crème into the sauce.

Finally she put the noodles and sauce into bowls and crumbled some bleu and feta cheese on top. Leaving them in the oven, which was off, to keep warm, Erika left the kitchen in search of Christian. He couldn't have wandered far. He doesn't know how to use the boat and only two other doors were unlocked. Taking a quick glance around her sitting room, Erika saw the door to her immediate left was opened.

Slipping in quietly, Erika watched as Christian began singing one of her own compositions. _The way he sings it... with so much heart. I couldn't imagine it better._ "_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses..._" Chris unconsciously smiled as the last note rang. He was so intent on the music in front of him, he physically jumped into the air when Erika spoke.

"So I take it you find everything satisfactory?" her voice was steady, but Chris had learned to hear the smile in her voice, no matter how small, or well-hidden, the smile was. Turning towards her, the white mask gleaming in stark contrast to the dimly lit room, Chris nodded enthusiastically which earned him a half smile from Erika. "Well I'm glad I'm not the only one who can enjoy my music room," her eyes shone proudly as they looked over all her prized possessions. When her gaze landed upon Chris once more, Erika became slightly more rigid and said, "Dinner is ready. I suggest you come and eat," before walking out of the room.

Chris slowly walked back out into the sitting room, closing the door softly behind him. Shaking his head and smiling at her obvious lack of social skills, Chris followed Erika's retreating figure through the third door.

**(The recipe used here was of my own design. I just figured it would be something quick and easy to make. I don't know if it actually works like that, but hey. Whatever. And as for how the kitchen and light source worked, I'm sure if that's entirely accurate either. Let me know if I should change something or if I got something wrong. :3)**


	13. Chapter 13

**(A/N: Here it is. The fated time has come. I've run out of pre-written material. We are journeying into uncharted territory here. It's dangerous and a little bumpy, but it should be fun. But it also means that, unless I get hit with some serious inspiration, the chapters are going to remain shorter. :D But still good... I hope. Anyways, here are some domestic chapters that are just fillers. Hope I don't bore you. :D Enjoy)  
**  
Chris walked into a spacious area that was, obviously, the kitchen and dining room. It was two rooms in one with a wide opening connecting them and the front room connecting directly to the dining room.

The dining room held a large rectangular table that stretched about five feet, rested on another Persian rug, and had a deep red and purple runner across it. The chairs that sat at the table weren't showy but had obviously comfy cushions. Two silver candelabras that rested on the runner held flickering candles, but most of the illumination came from above. Chris walked further into the room, eyes looking up, trying to pinpoint the source of the light.

Erika stood leaning on the wall that separated the dining room and kitchen, watching Chris, amusement apparent in her golden irises. She couldn't help **but** be amused at his obvious confusion and disbelief. Feeling her eyes, Chris turned and saw that she had removed her cloak and hat, but the coil of rope was still present on her right hip. After a moment of them just staring at each other, during which Chris's eyes never lingered on the mask, Chris glanced back up at the ceiling.

Erika inwardly chuckled at his curiosity. She stepped forward away from the wall and sauntered over to where Chris was standing, careful not to draw too close. After just standing there for the moment, basking in the presence of him, Erika leaned over and broke the silence. "It's a system of mirrors."

Chris looked over at her, confusion plain on his slightly freckled face. "What?"

Erika gestured towards the ceiling. "The light. It's brought in by a system of mirrors." She turned to face Chris fully, who was intently listening. "You see, the sun creates its own natural light, which is common knowledge, but mirrors can reflect and direct the light if angled properly. Outside, I've set up a mirror that catches the afternoon light, because that's the only time I'm in here, and it reflects the light to another mirror that reflects the light to another one until the light is brought down here." Erika shrugged slightly, "So, you see? A system of mirrors."

Chris couldn't take his eyes off her. He absorbed every word she said and took enjoyment in her happiness during the explanation. And, even though it was a bit unconventional, Chris found her genius very appealing. Chris found himself staring at her lips as they danced during the small speech. Eventually, Erika acknowledged his staring and turned to look at him. Her golden eyes solemnly watched him. Chris took a small step forward, eyes not breaking contact. Erika slowly and deliberately turned away, turning to face the doorway to the kitchen.

"The food is in the kitchen. Shall I go get it now?" she asked in a strained voice, trying her best to keep it under control. Him being so close, close enough to touch, wasn't helping her resolve. Without waiting for a response, she strode into the kitchen. Chris watched her walk away for a moment before slowly following her. _Why did she turn?_ He asked himself. _Why does it bother me that she did?_

Still struggling, Erika walked over to the oven and pulled out the still-fresh pasta. She grabbed two forks and cups, filling the cups with water, and put it all out on the counter. Then, she rested her elbows on the counter and pressed her cool fingers against her hot face. How Erika wished to take off the mask like she usually did when she was home, but Christian was there so she had to bear the growing pains on her cheek, forehead, and nose.

Hearing Christian's quiet footsteps, Erika busied herself once more. Reaching the kitchen, Chris was happy to find it was fully stocked and ready for cooking. There was a wood stove and a cast-iron oven on one wall, and a sink with, what Chris hoped, was running water. To the left there was another opening in the wall that led to a pantry with full shelves. All around there were hanging cabinets that contained dishes that ranged from simple plates to cups to silverware. The floor was a stone floor, but evened out and polished.

Erika was busying herself on the far counter, next to the stove and oven. Her back was to Chris, and she didn't turn when he entered or even when he came up right behind her. She felt his presence when he was near. She smelled the fresh soap he used during his baths. She heard his sleeve rustle as he put his arm out. Chris brought his hand forward to touch her hunched figure, but stopped it as it was hovering just over her shoulder. Arm shaking, Chris slowly withdrew his hand.

Erika heard him pull back.

She heard him leave.

Erika only then turned and looked longingly after his retreating figure before grabbing the bowls and cups and making her way out.

**(A/N: Review. Please. I need you to do this...)**


	14. Chapter 14

**(A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. I was seriously going to post it when I said I would, but then I had internet issues and then I wanted to write more to give you as recompense for my lateness and then I was experiencing serious block and so it just really took forever for me to write and I'm so freaking sorry. But I shall be posting multiple chapters and it'll be to the big unmasking scene. Right now I'm working on Christian's point of view of the whole scene and asdfghjkl. I hope you like it none the less. And I am so sorry. :'( Again...)**

Dinner was eaten quietly, the silence only being broken by the clinking of silverware. Chris kept stealing glances at Erika, who was seated to his left instead of at the other end of the table, but her gaze remained steadily on her food. Erika resisted the urge to scratch her neck, ever thankful that she wore long sleeves because they hid the goose-flesh that had risen under Christian's consistent gaze.

Once he'd finished, Chris gave a small smile and broke the silence, "Thank you for the delicious food." Erika turned her head, a blush spreading on her cheeks, leaving only the mask in Christian's sight. "Erika," Chris began, hesitantly, "why is it that I'm here?" Erika gave a small sigh and thought to herself, _I've been asking myself the same thing, Christian.  
_  
Instead she said hurriedly, "To further your vocal and musical education, of course." Chris gave a quiet huff of surprise and his Angel turned to face him. "I do not wish you any harm," she assured softly. "If I have frightened you in any way-"

"No, no," Chris interrupted. "You've done nothing of the sort, Erika." She still found pure joy when her name passed his sweet lips, rolling off his tongue in that velvety voice. "I was just curious as to the reasons of my..." he paused, searching for the right word. Failing to find one, Chris fell quiet, positive his point was made.

Erika nodded solemnly. She understood all too well. They simply sat in silence for a second or two before Erika asked, "Would you like me to show you your quarters?" Christian's head lifted instantly, curiosity piqued and excitement evident in his rich blue eyes. Smiling, Erika stood and collected the dishes, asking quietly for a moment as she dashed to the kitchen and dropped the soiled ceramics and silverware into the sudsy wash bucket. She came back, not a moment later, and motioned for Christian to follow.

Chris eagerly followed, mind wandering again and thinking back on the fleeting smile he was graced with a few minutes ago. Erika's face was normally stony or drawn with worry or dislike. _But when she smiled..._ Chris found a smile spreading across his own face, just thinking about it. Her eyes light up and soften and she even gets a little dimple on her cheek. Christian followed Erika in a daze until he ran into her when she stopped in front of the door farthest to the left. He shook then ducked his head sheepishly, a small bashful grin there and gone in a flash.

Erika gestured to the door. "This will be your room. And this," she pulled out a key from Chris knew not where, "is the key to your room." She handed it to him, careful not to brush fingers with the young man. "Have a look." Erika gave a small, close-mouthed smile and nodded towards the door in encouragement.

Smiling widely, Chris quickly unlocked and opened the wooden door. Within was a large, welcoming room. Christian took a few slow steps till he stood in the center of the room, on top of another Persian rug, this one a melody of darker colors. A four poster bed rested in the middle on the far wall, dark curtains hanging from its rails, and a nightstand with an oil lamp and candle on it lay to the left. There was a dark mahogany chest-of-drawers on the wall to the right of the bed and a hollow that, Chris assumed, was a closet.

Erika held back, waiting at the doorway, watching Christian as he made his way through the room. He seemed pleased, and when he turned to face her again, eyes alight with joy, Erika couldn't help but smile inwardly. Christian came forward to meet her at the door, still smiling widely. Chris stopped when he reached Erika, glancing down at her still-gloved hands. With a start, he realized how close they were, and he took a step back.

"The room is lovely," Chris found his voice again. "Thank you." Erika only nodded mutely. "I'm feeling a bit tired, so I think I shall retire for the day." Erika nodded again. Chris gave her a puzzled look before saying cautiously, "Goodnight."

Erika simply nodded once more and stepped back into the sitting room, closing the door behind her. Chris stared at the closed door. _That was odd…_ he thought, scratching the back of his head as he made his way around the room. After a quick search in the chest-of-drawers, Chris found a nightshirt and changed before sliding into the large bed. Turning off the oil lamp, he gave a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes and slipped into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

Erika stood outside of Christian's door, listening to him bustling around in his room until she heard the groan of the bed as he settled onto the mattress. She leaned her head forward until it gently rested against the thick wooden door, and whispered, "Goodnight Christian. Sweet dreams."

**(A/N: I know I haven't been so loyal to you, but I'd seriously appreciate it if you'd review. :/)**


	15. Chapter 15

**(A/N: In case you didn't get a notification, I updated chapter 14 with an actual chapter, so check it out if you haven't yet. :D One more for today after this. OnO Enjoy)**

The next morning, Chris woke to the sounds of music. It was hard to tell the hour, the cave seemed to make time almost stop, but Chris felt well-rested. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a minute, just listening to the soft melody sneaking into his room, before pulling off the covers and setting his bare feet on the floor. As quietly as he could, Chris made his way over to the closet and chest-of-drawers.

After rifling through the assortment of perfectly-fitting clothes, Chris settled on an outfit that very much resembled yesterday's clothes. After pulling on his trousers, shirt, and boots, Chris headed to the door. But just before he reached it, he noticed the key that hung on the hat rack. He smiled at the small silver trinket on the simple twine. On the hat rack was a fine place to stay. Chris felt he wouldn't be needing it anytime soon. He still trusted his Angel.

He opened the door as quietly as possible in an effort not to cease the magical strains of music that graced his ears. At this point, if Chris needed to talk, he would only whisper. Christian had always been a fan of the orchestra—just listening to the music without lyrics was magic in itself. But this violin, this solitary instrument, seemed to paint such a clear picture in a way that Chris had never heard, not even from the full orchestra.

Without a sound, Chris made his way across the sitting room to the doorway of the music room. Hugging the wall, Chris peeked around the corner. Erika stood in the middle of the room, just to the right of the grand piano. Her eyes were closed and her fingers flew across the strings, a juxtaposition to the slow, measured movements of the bow. Erika herself was dressed just as she was yesterday, but the black vest and gloves were stitched with a soft blue instead of the deep red.

Chris remained by the door, transfixed by the grace and beauty of Erika as well as the soft, haunting, and entrancing tones of her violin. For what seemed like eons, they stood there, Erika lost in making music and Chris lost in the majesty of her creation. When the song ended, Christian remained still, leaning on the doorframe, tears quietly rolling down his cheeks. Erika slowly opened her eyes, her long lashes brushing her cheek. At first she didn't notice him, but when she did, and her eyes locked on his, she paused.

They stood there in silence, neither willing to look away. The air was pregnant with emotions and hints of what could be. After a few minutes, Erika broke the silence, softly saying, "You must be hungry, Christian. Come. Allow me to make you something." She gently set the violin down on the closed piano before sweeping by Chris.

In a sort of daze, Chris followed her through the dining room and into the kitchen. She looked over her shoulder, eyes shining, and asked, "Would you like to help?"

Chris shook his head, pulling himself out of the daze, and smiled. "I'd love to help. What are we making?"

Erika's eyes seemed to smile. "Omelets."

Erika smiled tentatively at Christian across the couch. Their breakfast-making had been enjoyable. She had taught Christian how to properly cut an onion and multiple home remedies that counteracted the sting of their juice. Christian, in return, showed Erika his prowess at flipping the omelet without the use of any utensils. Breakfast had ended with Christian laughing and Erika practically beaming.

Now they were in the front room. Christian was sitting on the couch, looking around (most likely trying to absorb every little detail he can) and Erika was on the other side, watching him and then pretending she wasn't. It was getting exhausting. Pretending not to notice, pretending not to care. And she couldn't just as easily tell him how she felt. How each waking moment, Christian controlled her thoughts. How in her sleep, her dreams were always nightmares when he wasn't in them. _How I cannot imagine life without him… _Erika sighed heavily.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. "Christian," she said abruptly, standing. "Follow," was all she said before she made her way to her music room. He sat on the couch a moment or two, surprise stalling him, but soon was on his feet right behind her. Erika walked brusquely, passing the piano to grab some music off her desk before returning to the piano where Christian stood, waiting.

"I have some music I would like us to work on," Erika said as she sat on the piano bench. She gingerly opened the fall board, smiling inwardly as the keys gleamed up at her. Without turning, Erika held out the pages to Christian, who quickly took it, looking over the notes and lyrics. A smile slowly spread as he began to hum the tune, getting the pitch proper in his head.

His eyes traveled from the sheets of music to Erika, who was looking up at him, her face passive and giving away none of the unadulterated affection that lay just beneath. "I don't recognize this piece," Chris said, smiling slightly. "Did you write it?" Erika's eyes traveled all over Christian's face before she slowly nodded. Chris's smile grew. "It's fantastic! How are you not published?" Erika looked back down at the piano, a bitter smile twisting her face.

"It is a bit difficult to be published when you are scorned by society," she muttered, white mask hiding any emotion her face might reveal. "And being a woman does not help." Chris shook his head.

"That doesn't mean you're not allowed to ask someone for help. And who says you can't use a pseudonym," Christian said firmly. He seemed genuinely upset. Erika kept her eyes trained on the black and white keys before her, Christian's eyes trained on her, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

Abruptly, Erika began to play, her fingers dancing across the keys with as much fluidity as on her violin, but with broader strokes. Christian closed his eyes, letting the melody wash over him, but they snapped open when he heard Erika clear her throat sharply. Grinning sheepishly, Christian looked at the papers still in his hand.

"_I have brought you, to the seat of sweet music's throne,_" Chris sang '_obscure_' as the page dictated, "_to a kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music._" Erika's eyes glazed as she heard her music sang as it was meant to be heard. Christian's voice was doing the piece far more justice than expected. "_You have come here for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me… to sing for my music, music._" Chris held the last note until he had to breathe. Erika's fingers stilled, and silence was upon them once more.

Chris looked down at his Angel. She seemed trapped in her head, but Chris didn't mind, for it gave him time to simply look at her. She was beyond beautiful, despite the fact she seemed to desire to remain in the darkness. _Well, _Christian thought, _at least the side I can see is beautiful._ The white mask she wore on the right side of her face seemed secure, for he'd never seen it slip. But curiosity raged inside him, the desire to see what was underneath so sudden that Chris gasped softly for air.

_Erika is beautiful. My Angel is beautiful both inside and out. Any sort of physical deformity wouldn't change that for a moment,_ Christian rationalized. He carefully extended his arm. _It won't hurt to look. I __**must**__ see…_ His fingers ghosted over the high forehead of the mask. _Now or never._ And with one rapid movement, Chris whisked off the mask.

**(A/N: 'obscure' is Latin for 'darkly'. I figured it was a good way to describe how it was sung. Plus a random Latin lesson! :D And you know what's coming next. It's gonna go DOWN!)**


	16. Chapter 16

**(A/N: Last chapter for today. I hope you like it. Like I said, next up is Christian's POV on all this. Enjoy the feels. Free, for today only! :D)**

Erika sat in reverie, Christian's voice swirling around her head, repeating over and over and over again. How was it possible that such a person existed? Christian was talented, beautiful, and, above all, kind. He seemed not to care that Erika was a woman—an educated one at that—and he was appalled that she was unable to have her music published. Somehow the entire situation seemed surreal.

Then she felt cool air against the right side of her face. Instantly, acting more on instinct than anything, Erika leapt to her feet with a roar, hand instantly clapping to her face. She turned on the man holding her mask, rage turning her vision red. "DAMN YOU!" Erika growled. She quickly grabbed his arm in a tight vice, pulling him close. "YOU LITTLE PRYING PANDORA, YOU LITTLE DEMON!" The man struggled, trying to free himself to no avail. Erika removed the hand obscuring her face. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE?" she spat, throwing the man to the floor and covering her face again.

Erika stalked away from the shocked man on the ground who still held her mask. "CURSE YOU!" she hissed, turning to glare at him. "YOU LITTLE LYING DELILAH, YOU LITTLE VIPER!" Erika dashed forward towards him, dropping her hand and grabbing his arm once more. "Now you cannot ever be free," this was whispered with such steel, the man in her grasp shuddered, scrabbling to get away. Erika released him and stormed away again, her palms pulling at her face. "DAMN YOU! … Curse you," she fell to her knees.

Erika turned to face the thief behind her before starting to crawl towards him. "Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me, this loathsome gargoyle," she spat, "who _burns_ in hell." The rage began to fade and her vision cleared, leaving Erika drained, sad, and shocked to realize she had basically attacked Christian. "But secretly yearns for heaven." She had to fix this. She _had _to fix this. "Secretly, secretly." Erika held up a cautious hand, keeping her right securely on her face.

"Oh Christian," she nearly sobbed. Erika took a few shuddering breaths, composing herself, before continuing much gentler, "Fear can turn to love. You'll learn to see." Christian kept edging away. "To find the woman behind the monster, this repulsive carcass," Erika lowered her hand slightly, but quickly put it back in place when Christian flinched. "Who seems a beast but secretly _dreams_ of beauty." Christian's eyes were wide and full of pure terror. "Secretly, secretly." Erika hung her head.

"Oh Christian…" she said quietly, falling back onto her heels and scuffling away. "No. No…" she mumbled, turning her back and shaking her head. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to fall. Erika breathed deep, pinching the bridge of her nose in an effort not to break down. The silence that fell was only broken by her small gasps for air. Then Erika felt a light pressure on her arm.

Turning slightly, Erika saw that Christian was holding out her mask, his eyes cast downward and his body still trembling slightly. Erika felt such a wave of shame that she wanted to fall to Christian's feet and beg for forgiveness, but it was quickly squashed with the desire to hide and she snatched the mask from his grasp. Without a second's delay, the mask was once more on her face and Erika stood, turning to look down at the man still kneeling on the floor.

"I highly recommend you return to your quarters and promptly _lock the door_," Erika said icily. Christian, still a tad dazed by the outburst, scrambled to his feet and obeyed, leaving the music room and promptly closing his own door. The crack that broke the heavy silence cut Erika sharply. The sound of the lock's tumblers falling into place left her gasping for air and staggering to the doorframe.

Head down, Erika made her way to the furthermost right door, unlocking it and entering quickly. The door then clicked shut and locked behind her.

**(A/N: In case you were wondering, that room she went into is NOT her bedroom. That's next-door to Christian's room. Feel free to speculate amongst yourselves. }:] PS - review please.)**


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